The Gathering

by Fiore, L. A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018, L.A. Fiore

  All rights reserved

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  ISBN-13: 978-1726076289

  ISBN-10: 1726076288

  Cover design by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

  File creation, mobi and epub, by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

  Typeset graphics, title page art and paperback and eBook formatting by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

  Editing by Trish Bacher, Editor in Heels

  Proofreading by Rebecca Barney, Fairest Reviews Proofreading Services

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Preface

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Learn More

  Playlist

  Come Together…Gary Clark Jr.

  Flawless…Dorothy

  Until We Go Down…Ruelle

  Welcome To The Black Parade…My Chemical Romance

  Tell That Devil…Jill Andrews

  Monsters…Ruelle

  If We Were Vampires…Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

  Zombie…Bad Wolves

  Stronger…Through Fire

  Up In Flames…Ruelle

  The Worst In Me…Bad Omens

  Boomerang…Smash Into Pieces

  Storm…Ruelle

  Dark Nights…Dorothy

  Devil With Angel Eyes…Royal Bliss

  Deep End…Ruelle

  A Crime To Remember…Pop Evil

  Broken…Seether

  Angel…Theory of a Deadman

  The Other Side…Ruelle

  Stillborn…Black Label Society

  Walk Through the Fire…Zayde Wolf

  Live Like Legends…Ruelle

  Preface

  It isn’t a battle between good and evil that has waged since the beginning of time; it is a balance. A shift in one will result in an equal shift in the other and like birth and death one cannot exist without the other. Sometimes that shift can be immeasurable, the result of something as simple as a wish made upon a star. It is why we have the adage; the old wives’ tale that warns…be careful what you wish for.

  Prologue

  1985

  On the summer solstice, Ivy Blackwood was born. From the very beginning, she was different. She didn’t cry or fuss; she didn’t smile or laugh. Her silence was so profound the staff at the nursery grew uneasy. A baby should make some noise, but Ivy was unusually quiet. Her lack of emotion drew concern and fear. The whispers started…words like unnatural and impure.

  At ten, she was fostered. She lived with the family for only two weeks before tragedy struck. Ivy Blackwood stood outside, her fingertips burned, her hair singed as she passively watched the small house being engulfed in flames. Some who watched her crossed themselves, convinced she was soulless for she showed no emotion at all. No remorse, no regret, no fear. She stood calmly, dispassionately, even when the screaming started that quickly turned to bellows of agony before dying into nothing but the roaring of the fire.

  Since that day, she was locked away where she couldn’t bring harm to herself or others. To all involved, they had protected the world from a monster, but sometimes, things are not what they seem.

  The Bayou...that same night

  Mist curled around the buttressed bases of the cypress trees. The distinct sound of alligators on the hunt mingled with the mating calls of the egrets and blue herons. The pale glow of the full moon diffused through the needles of the conifers to reflect off the still water. New life swam under the surface, even as some were lost to predators. Old gnarled trees, covered in decaying moss, hosted nests for hatchlings. That was the way of it, a delicate balance maintained by nature…life and death and everything in between.

  In a home nestled on the banks of the bayou, an old woman kneeled in front of her altar. She offered a prayer to the Ancestors before seeking the answers to questions she feared asking. Reaching for the bones that had been passed down for generations, she curled her gnarled fingers around the sacred heirlooms and tossed them over the animal hide. Her eyes widened when the bones settled in patterns only she could read. She knew of the prophecy, had been entrusted with the secret on the day of her eighteenth birthday. For generations, the Boudreaux waited for they knew what very few did: something not of this world was coming, an ancient evil that could obliterate the balance, sending the world into perpetual darkness. A chill moved through her…the wait was over.

  New Orleans...The Summer Solstice 2017

  “You would go to that place? I’ve heard so many horrible stories.” The girl ran her hand over Lee’s chest. “You’re not scared though, are you? You’re a real man…so brave.”

  Kathy almost snorted. Who the hell was this chick? Stroking Lee’s ego, among other things, to get him to do a dare. He wouldn’t fall for that and certainly not from some stranger. “Sure I’d go.” Okay, on second thought, it wasn’t her brother’s brain doing the thinking right now.

  “You’re going to do it? No way, man. Fucking get a picture.” His friends were always egging him on to do stupid shit.

  “You’ll be here when we get back?” Lee asked the girl.

  “Wait, we?” Kathy was sure she hadn’t heard her brother correctly.

  Lee flashed her the smile he knew she couldn’t say no to. “You and me, sis.”

  “No way. The place is haunted.”

  The girl gave her brother a look that was sure to have resonated in an area below his waist. Confirmed when he grabbed Kathy’s hand and pulled her along. “We’ll be back.” He glanced down at his sister. “Did you see her? She’s hot as fuck. Come on, please do this, Kathy.”

  “Why do I have to go?”

  She knew what he was going to say before he said it, and he was right. “Because since Dad we promised to stay together.”

  True, but this was asking too much. “Entering a haunted house is a gray area.”

  “Do it for me.”

  “For part of you anyway. Who is that girl?”

  “I don’t know, but after this dare, I’m going to know a hell of a lot more about her.”

  “You mean you’ll know more about her body.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Pig.” She said that on a laugh because her brother was an adorable, harmless pig.

  The old antebellum plantation was nestled
on the banks of the Mississippi. The long dirt drive was lined by ancient oak trees; thick, twisted branches curled and fused together to create a living canopy. The woods surrounding the plantation were almost disturbingly quiet, but it was so dark, making it impossible to see into the imposing blackness.

  They shouldn’t be there. Everything in her told her to run. She felt the chill down her spine, the hair at her nape stand on end. It was a dare. No one came here for a reason…the place was haunted. She wanted to turn back, but her brother would never let her live it down; she was five years older and almost living on her own, how could she be afraid of a stupid dare? Instead of listening to that sixth sense that was screaming in her head, she continued on to the old house that had sat vacant for generations. They just had to enter and get a picture of themselves in the house. Seemed simple enough, until they stepped onto the property. She could feel it; something dark lurked there.

  Her brother pushed open the door; the old wood creaked before finally giving in and reluctantly granting them access. He looked over at her and grinned, the stark white of his teeth looking eerie in the darkened room.

  “Easiest dare ever.”

  A chill brought goosebumps, her breath exhaling in puffs. “Let’s get this picture and get out of here,” she whispered, eager to see the last of the place.

  He pulled out his cell and caught the shot just as the sound of footsteps echoed from upstairs. Both of their heads snapped in that direction, as the temperature seemed to dip even lower.

  “Let’s go,” she said, but her brother was frozen, his expression one of terror.

  “What’s wrong?”

  At that moment, the wind through the trees outside sounded like a scream.

  His hand shook when he turned the phone to her. Fear returned; her legs went weak with it. Standing just behind them was a lady in white with wide fearful eyes and on the stairs coming toward them was a menacing shadow.

  They both turned at the same time; yellow eyes peered out from the darkness. Her scream was trapped in her throat when warm spray covered her face and neck. Her brother’s lifeless eyes were the last things she saw before the darkness claimed her too.

  1

  Josiah-2018

  I impatiently waited by the coffee maker for that liquid gold. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to get me going today, not with the stress of Mardi Gras season; it was almost over…hallelujah. I had never once entertained the idea of being sheriff for New Orleans, but I got the call, packed up my shit, and moved to Louisiana. That was almost eleven years ago and not a day went by that I didn’t question what the hell I had been thinking.

  “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were having an affair.” Dahlia strolled into the kitchen. “Home late, out early.”

  My wife. Had I not moved, I never would have met her. She liked to say it was the silver lining to my rash decision. “Woman, I am too tired to have an affair.”

  She joined me at the counter. Her pink silk robe was pulled tight across her breasts. She was turning fifty-three and looked exactly as she had when we met in that café where she had all but taken my breath away. I didn’t know what creams or spells or potions her friend Lilith whipped up in that store of theirs, but they worked. I’d like to see the signs of life on her face, but it made her happy, so I kept my opinion to myself.

  A laugh whistled through her lips when I yanked her up against me. “Not too tired for you though.”

  “Josiah, you sweet talker,” she chuckled then pressed a kiss on my mouth, one that was over far sooner than I would have liked. “How’s your day looking?”

  “More of the same. I know it’s Mardi Gras, but even for Mardi Gras, it’s been insane.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I poured the coffee in my travel mug then kissed her again. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Be safe, Josiah.”

  I grinned to myself as I walked to the door because she said that every morning. I waited to hear it. I glanced back and winked. “Always.”

  We lived on Dumaine Street, picked the location because of how close it was to the station house, which was only a few blocks away on Royal Street. It wasn’t a long walk, but in the heat of the summer, it was fucking torture. The crews would be out cleaning, and partygoers were just returning to their hotels to sleep off their night of debauchery in preparation for another night of exactly the same thing. Was it a wonder that people believed New Orleans was filled with vampires? Of course not, with the amount of people sleeping all day and partying all night.

  Yanking open the door, the blast from the air conditioner felt good.

  “Hey, Sheriff.” There was a reason Doris was our receptionist because no matter what time of day or night, she always had a smile.

  “Morning, Doris. Did Cooper come home?” Her dog got out last night. He never ran off, but he also wasn’t fixed so I suspected nature was calling.

  Her smile was answer enough. “He did, this morning.”

  “Good, but you might want to get him fixed, or he’ll be running out at all times of the day.”

  “He’s scheduled for next month.” I nodded and started for the bull pen. She called after me, “Layla brought in beignets.”

  Moving through the station house with the singular purpose of getting my hands on a beignet, I wasn’t pleased when Nick Santos stepped in my path. He was a new recruit. Good kid, but he tried so damn hard to please. He needed to focus more on his work and less on what everyone thought of his work. He was a rookie, and I remembered how that felt, so I was more patient than I normally would have been.

  “I know what we can do for the fundraiser.”

  “Walk with me.” I was getting one of those beignets.

  “We should do a calendar.”

  That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Excuse me?”

  “Like the firehouse does.”

  I wasn’t out of shape, but I was fifty-six. People didn’t want this shit hanging on their walls. “No.”

  “But there’s very little overhead and it makes great money.”

  I continued onto the beignets. “Correction, the firehouse calendar makes great money because they’re in their twenties and thirties and haul around equipment that weighs upward of a hundred pounds. In other words, they’re all fit. This…” I gestured to my gut that though was flat was also a fifty-six-year-old gut, “…won’t sell calendars. Back to square one, Nick.”

  “But...”

  Nick was cut off when Cyril Gaudet, my deputy sheriff, came rushing into the bullpen. Cyril was not a man to rush. “We got two bodies.”

  Fuck.

  “Right behind the cemetery. Some kids found them.” He rubbed his neck before he added, “Josiah, they think it’s the McKinnon kids.”

  I’d been dreading those words for eight months. Every cop had a case like the McKinnons’. It kept me up at night wondering what happened to them. They were good kids, always helping out around town. They lost their dad a few years ago in a car crash. It was just them and their mom. They wouldn’t have walked out on her, but it was like they had just vanished.

  “The McKinnons? We combed every inch of this city.” The anger was coming now, more for myself. Had I missed something?

  “I don’t understand it either. We searched every patch of trees, every street, every alley, every sewer drain, practically drained the damn bayou.” Cyril’s Cajun background was coming out; it always did when he was pissed.

  “We apparently missed something. Let’s find out what killed them and go from there.” I understood Cyril’s anger because I felt it too.

  “The medical examiner is doing a full autopsy, but she knows what killed them.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What?”

  He rubbed his neck again before he offered, “I think it’s easier to show you.”

  I was afraid he was going to say that. I walked right past the plate of beignets. I’d lost my appetite.

  I had seen all kinds of shit
in my years on the force. From my time in New York, my stint in Detroit, and now here in New Orleans, I thought I had seen it all. I was wrong. I stood over the bodies of two kids I’d known well enough to greet by name and had trouble believing what I was seeing. Deep gash marks lacerated their throats. Even for a wild animal attack, it was gruesome.

  “They went missing almost a year ago, but those…” Calling them bodies just seemed so wrong, “…are very well preserved.”

  “Yeah, either they were held and killed recently, or they were killed and put on ice.”

  I yanked off my hat and gripped the rim hard as I worked to settle the rage. Emotion had no place right now. I needed to be the cop. Kathy and Lee deserved that, but what kind of monster mutilated kids? “What made those marks?”

  Jasmine, our new medical examiner, hunched down to get a closer look. She’d only been here about six months. Came to us from Boston. She looked as baffled as I felt.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll take measurements and make some inquires.”

  “They bled out.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think they were killed here. We can take some soil samples, and the crime unit will test the area with Luminol. The soil will light up like a Christmas tree if this is where they were killed.”

  “Why don’t you think they were killed here?”

  She glanced around before she said, “Look where we are. At night, this place is teaming with people. An attack like this would have been horrific and loud. I think they were killed somewhere else and dumped here.”

  “Let’s say they were killed right after they went missing. Why hold onto their bodies? And where were they holding them?” It never ceased to amaze me how fucking depraved some people were. I was actually kind of grateful that I could still be surprised. What a fucking waste. They were so young, just kids. I had to tell Diana McKinnon, who still put up flyers every week for her missing children, that the hope she’d been clinging to was for nothing. I had to tell her we found Kathy and Lee. I fucking hated this part of the job.

  I parked in front of the café and took a minute. As many times as I’ve had to do this, it never got easier. Pulling the door open, Diana glanced over, but it was the look in her gaze that twisted like a knife in my chest. She must have seen it in my expression because that hope drained from her face. She went as pale as a ghost; her hands shook as the plates she carried slipped from her fingers. The woman buried her husband a few years ago and now she had to bury her children. I’d find the fucker who killed her babies, and I’d make him pay.