Devil’s Luck

by Kory M. Shrum

  “Winter finds them. He recruits them. Radicalizes them online. He helps them find kids, and worst of all, he circulates this shit across the four corners of the globe. Men all over the world are jerking off to this. These guys are animals, but Winter is the one who feeds them.”

  “When you disappeared—” Blair began.

  “Don’t,” Diana warned. She didn’t want to go down memory lane. Not tonight, while so much weighed on her mind and every time she closed her eyes she saw Lou Thorne stepping from darkness, from nothing.

  Impossible. She wouldn’t let Spencer’s pathetic mewling get to her.

  Blair didn’t seem to hear her, or she didn’t care enough about Diana’s wishes to stop. “It was the longest two months of my life. I thought you were dead. I hoped you were dead, because being alive meant—well, you know what it meant.”

  Diana snorted, shoving another bite of ham into her mouth.

  Blair prattled on. “All I can think about is that right now, someone is out there lying awake thinking about these kids, wondering where they are, sick to death about them, wondering if they’re ever going to come home. They’re lying in their beds, staring at the ceiling and asking themselves what they’re going to do if they never find out what happened, if they never see them again. How are they going to move on?”

  “No one is wondering about him,” Diana said, pointing at the little boy.

  Blair looked up, obviously irritated by the interruption. “What?”

  “He’s not a missing child. That’s his father.”

  Blair swore and took a deep breath. “I answered that question for myself. When I was the one lying in bed, worried sick about you, I asked myself how I was going to move on. And this isn’t it, Dee. This isn’t moving on. I thought if you got the guys that hurt you, you could move on, but you aren’t. You just keep finding new targets.”

  “These kids—”

  “You don’t care about the kids!” Blair laughed, high and hysterical. “You go hard because you can’t stop. You only do it for yourself. When is it going to be enough? When? When do we get to live our lives?”

  Lou would understand, she thought. No one is asking her to give up.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Diana said. “You can leave at any time. Go get yourself pregnant, pop out some kids, live in fucking suburbia for all I care. Go on.”

  She stopped short of saying, I never asked you to be here. Because that was a lie. She had asked Blair, practically begged her. But that was a long time ago, and Diana wasn’t so convinced that she needed Blair anymore.

  Not when there was someone who might understand her better.

  Blair’s jaw was set tight, flexing with unspoken words.

  The screen flickered. No surprise.

  Sometimes Winter’s feed cut out suddenly. If he felt the line was compromised in any way, then he always cut and ran.

  Then the second screen went dark too, and they could no longer see into King’s office, or the apartment.

  “What happened?” Diana said, sitting up and tapping the monitor as if slapping it would get it to turn back on.

  Blair threw her hands up in surrender. “Yes, what did happen to your precious videos? I’d hate for you to be interrupted in the middle of such an important conversation.”

  Diana unplugged the computers, rebooted them, checked the server. Nothing.

  “Maybe we just lost signal,” Blair said.

  Diana stood. “It’s her.”

  “You can’t—”

  “It’s her. She’s done this because she’s back.”

  “You’re guessing,” Blair said, in a voice one might use to calm wild animals.

  But Diana was already lifting the communicator from the desk. She mashed the button with her thumb.

  “Operation Retrie—” she said.

  Blair shoved her thumb off the switch. “Dee, come on. Take a breath. You don’t know—”

  Diana wrenched away from her. “Operation Retrieval activates now. I want all teams mobile in five minutes. Go.”

  Diana slammed the comm down on the desk and gave her sister a pointed look.

  “That’s rash,” Blair said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “You’ll see.” Diana was already to the door, a spring in her step. She craved action after so much inactivity.

  “Diana!”

  She turned to find her sister staring at her with an unreadable expression. Disgust? Disappointment? Maybe a hint of fear.

  She waited for the accusation.

  You know our mother lost her mind like this. You’re obsessive like she is. You’ve got to pull yourself back sometimes.

  Blair had said this once, after the first time Winter had slipped through her fingers and Diana had blacked out with rage.

  That’s what you’re for, Diana had told her.

  But Diana frowned at her now, her disappointment like an itch in her throat. Maybe she had outgrown Blair. Maybe it was time for someone stronger—and more understanding.

  Time for someone who was a hunter like her.

  Blair thrust the half-eaten sandwich at her accusingly. “At least finish your sandwich.”

  18

  King woke to the sound of Lady barking. It was a high, strident sound of alarm. Then she whined and fell silent. Where was she? Mel’s apartment? The stairwell?

  Panic rocked through him.

  He sat up in bed and opened his bedside table. There in the shadows sat his .357 Magnum. He pulled it out and balanced it on one knee, searching with the other hand for the ammunition amongst the tissues and a bottle of aspirin.

  A cold metal cylinder as thin as a finger pressed into the side of his temple.

  “Put it back in the drawer,” a man said. His voice was muffled, as if his mouth was covered by a cloth.

  When King didn’t immediately respond, the gun was pressed into the side of his head hard enough to cock his neck to one side.

  “Now.”

  “All right,” King said, sliding the gun back into the drawer and closing it. He left his hands palm up on the coverlet in his lap. “Now what?”

  “On your knees, hands behind your back.”

  King slid from the bed to the floor, knowing that if someone had wanted him dead, they would likely have shot him already, unless their plan was to take him somewhere else and do it.

  Lovely thought.

  His knees creaked, and without meaning to, he threw a glance at the urn on the side table.

  A yank fixed thin hard plastic strips across his wrist. They bit into his flesh. Why were they binding his hands behind his back with zip ties?

  Black cloth slid down over his head and tightened at his throat with a drawstring.

  Black sacks and zip ties, he thought. This can’t be good.

  His old claustrophobia rose.

  The panic made his heart pound harder as the cloth flapped in and out against his face with each ragged breath.

  But it was what he didn’t hear that really frightened him. Lady. She should be raising hell right now. Why wasn’t she? Why?

  Before the terror could fully bloom, the butt of a gun struck him hard against the back of the skull.

  * * *

  Piper woke first. She’d sat up in Dani’s bed with a start. Looking around the dim room, she tried to breathe against the pounding of her heart. But it was only Dani breathing softly beside her.

  The room was still. The sliver of the hallway visible from the open bedroom door was also dark.

  The apartment was silent. Nothing moved.

  She exhaled. That’s what I get for watching A Quiet Place before bed. The movie had been awesome, but not for one’s anxiety.

  Now every creak meant some monster was going to appear and rip her throat out. Still her breathing felt too loud, her heartbeat more like a battle drum played over a loudspeaker.

  Then she saw it. A flashlight swept across the hallway wall, sliding over the bathroom’s door
frame, momentarily lighting the strike plate.

  Without thinking, she sprang to her feet and ran to the other side of the room. She positioned herself behind Dani’s bedroom door, pressing her shoulder blades against the cool plaster.

  Dani sat up in bed, her mouth opening in question.

  Piper shook her head furiously, putting a finger over her lips. She waved for her to lie down.

  Dani did, but even from the wall Piper could hear her breathing.

  Don’t cry, Piper thought. Please don’t cry.

  She saw the end of the gun first, its slender black barrel emerging like a snake from the tall grass. As soon as Piper saw the gloved hand, she struck.

  She grabbed the butt of the gun and yanked. Bullets sprayed into the bedroom floor.

  Who the hell carries a fully automatic handgun?

  Piper’s elbow, cocked, slammed into the attacker’s face. She felt something give—a nose? Lips splitting over teeth? Something hot smeared across the back of her arm.

  She didn’t know what she was doing, only that she couldn’t let go of the gun. Not until it clicked, signaling that it was empty.

  “Duck!”

  Piper reacted to the sound of Dani’s order, dipping her head low. An aluminum bat swept overhead, connecting hard with a body.

  The attacker dropped like a sack of bricks and the emptied gun clattered to the hardwood floor.

  In her mind, a mantra: Lou! Lou, we need you! Lou!

  That’s when electricity struck the back of her neck. Her body seized, every nerve in her body on fire.

  The blackout was a mercy.

  * * *

  Mel was at the register, writing down a list of things that needed to be done the following day.

  Buy paper towels and receipt paper

  Restock the love candles

  Search the August catalog for new tarot decks

  Call the distributor about the bead shipment

  Send newsletter about Back to Ghoul sale

  She’d come down into the closed shop with Lady when she realized sleep wouldn’t find her tonight. Sometimes making lists helped to quiet her mind enough that she could finally settle down.

  And the shop was a comfort to her. It was the smell of incense and wax and the gentle scratch scratch scratch of her pen pressing into the yellow notepad.

  Lady snarled, jumping up from where she lay at Mel’s feet.

  Mel lifted her head only to find five guns pointed at her. Large ones, assault rifles by the look of it.

  The soldiers holding them stood in full head-to-toe body armor. Her own face, with its ridiculous look of surprise, was mirrored back to her in their dark visors.

  “This is a lot of firepower for an old woman,” she said calmly, placing her hands on the glass case in front of her nice and slow.

  Lady snapped, barking and darting toward the closest soldier—if soldiers were what they were. He—or she—turned their gun and thrust the butt down at the dog.

  Lady was too quick, and the hilt slammed into the floor, gouging the wood.

  Mel knew how this would end.

  She knew that while these people might want her alive—for now—they likely didn’t give two shits about her dog.

  “Assez!” Melandra commanded. “Restez, ma grande.”

  Lady whined, her ears lying flat against her head.

  It was clear that her instincts differed greatly from the words spoken by her mistress, and because of that, a small war waged inside the canine. She snarled, but didn’t lunge again.

  “Assez,” Melandra repeated. She wanted to pet her, give her reassurances. Je t’aime, ma grande.

  But she would rather save Lady’s life than comfort her.

  “You leave the dog alone,” Melandra said, stepping around the counter, hands up in surrender. No need to give them a reason to shoot her outright. “I’ll come just fine.”

  Tail tucked, Lady returned to her side, sitting down beside her. As she pressed the side of her body into Mel’s leg, Mel felt the animal shaking.

  “Restez,” Mel said again.

  Lady’s ears twitched, but she was too well trained to disobey.

  “Restez,” she whispered over and over as they forced her onto her knees, tied her wrists, and slipped the black bag over her head.

  * * *

  Lou hauled her body out of the lake, her shoulder screaming. The Alaskan night breathed cricket song around her. She needed pills. She needed anything that would quiet the raging burn of her wounded side.

  The cooling La Loon waters had helped, but not enough.

  I did too much, she thought. I did too much too soon and I’m going to regret it.

  But she’d killed the Czech drug lord and had carried his body to the shores of La Loon. Jabbers had seemed all too happy to see that things had returned to normal.

  Now Lou longed for a hot shower, a good night’s sleep, and a fistful of painkillers.

  Until the alarm bells rocketed through her. Like a fishhook in the gut, she was jerked forward.

  Dani’s terror was the strongest and loudest. It was so strong that Lou found her arms shaking with it.

  Lou pulled her gun, able only to fully command her good side, and checked the bullets. They would have to do.

  19

  Piper came to on the wooden floor of an empty apartment. Or maybe a house. It was the light socket with a white plastic cover that came into focus first.

  They were still in the Quarter. She knew the sounds of this neighborhood the way one knows the sound of their parents’ voices. She’d been running these streets as soon as she was old enough to hop on the streetcar alone. There was the trumpet music from Jackson Square and Ariana Grande blaring from a nearby bar.

  A sudden swell of bluegrass music fought with the Ariana Grande remix, which made her think they were on Bourbon Street, or close to it.

  Piper pulled herself to sitting, groaning. The room spun like the time she smashed two hurricanes on a dare.

  You never drink liquor sweeter than Kool-Aid, Henry had warned her. And he’d been right.

  She groaned. “The hell, man.”

  “You were tased, by the look of that scorch mark on your neck,” King said. He sounded perfectly calm beside her. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his arms behind his back. Beside him was Mel, looking equally serene.

  “Really?” Piper murmured. “Some asshole tased me?”

  And why did they look so calm? Were they really getting so used to these attacks that they could just roll through them now? True, this cozy apartment, though empty, was better than the garage Dmitri Petrov had holed them up in. This place had none of that torture dungeon feel to it.

  Only they weren’t all perfectly calm.

  Someone whimpered beside Piper. She turned and saw Dani on the floor in the fetal position, tears running down her face.

  “Oh shit.” She scooted across to her. “Baby. Hey, baby. Look at me.”

  Dani didn’t look up. Her whole body was shaking.

  “Hey, shhh. Baby. Look at me. Look at me.”

  “We tried that,” Mel said calmly.

  Dani rolled her eyes up to meet Piper’s.

  Piper forced a smile. “See? You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

  Dani’s breathing thinned out even more.

  “God, why is she breathing like that?” Piper asked.

  “She’s having a panic attack,” Mel said.

  “Baby, you’ve got to slow down. Slow, deep breaths.”

  Someone snorted, an aborted laugh, and this dismissive sound made Piper look up.

  It was Diana. Her sleek blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her big blue eyes were round. She looked like a soccer mom with an unhinged gleam in her eye, especially with the gun in her hand.

  A woman in tight leather pants leaned against the door to this small room, regarding the scene impassively. Something about their faces looked similar. Maybe the nose or chin. The brow? Piper c
ouldn’t be sure.

  The room was hot and growing hotter with the six bodies crowded inside it. With the floor and walls bare and Piper’s hands tied behind her back, there was nothing that could be used to defend herself.

  Piper spotted a gray box on the wall and thought it might be a cabinet, but upon closer inspection, it was only a breaker box.

  “Pathetic. I haven’t touched her.” Diana’s voice was surprisingly melodic for a freaking crazy person.

  “She has PTSD, you piece of shit! Untie her.”

  “Please,” Dani said, between gasps. “P-please.”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “She’ll live.”

  “That’s more than you’re going to do,” Piper spat, forcing herself onto her knees. She was trying to position her weight so she could stand. It was harder than she’d thought it’d be. Some distant part of her mind thought, If we get out of this, I’m going to need to do more squats.

  “When I get out of this I’m going—”

  The slap was hard and fast. It rocked Piper off her feet, costing her the ground she’d recovered.

  “You’ll what?” Diana laughed into her face. “You won’t do sh—”

  Diana disappeared.

  One minute she was leaning over Piper, her face glowing with that murderous rage that Piper had seen somewhere before but couldn’t place. Then she was gone.

  Piper’s gaze adjusted to the low light in time to see Diana slammed against the wall, her feet three inches off the floor. She was pinned by the strong hand holding her. She was choking as her boots scuffed black marks against the plaster in their thrashing.

  It was Lou who had her pinned against the wall. Lou, dripping wet, her hair, jacket, and shoes all soaked. Small droplets fell from her matted strands onto the floor beneath her.

  The gun was in her left hand, but Piper thought it looked like an afterthought. She didn’t like the way that arm hung loose at her side.

  She couldn’t lift that thing if she tried.

  The woman in the leather pants pressed a gun to the back of Lou’s head. “Put her down.”

  Lou lowered Diana three inches so her feet touched the wood, but she didn’t take her hand off her throat.