Mitchel’s jaw dropped and his stomach churned. Fearful he would retch, he went into the hallway and leaned against the wall.
“Where you going? Don’t you want to watch?”
“Uh, no thanks. Just let me know when you’re done.”
“It’s your loss.”
Mitchel heard a slapping sound, then another groan from Hailey.
“That’s it…” Kristopher said. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
There was a loud thud as Kristopher dragged his prey off the couch. She began to murmur incoherently, finally forming the words, “What…are you doing?”
“We’re about to have a good time, you and me. I’m gonna make you feel alive, and I mean really alive.”
“What are you doing? Stop, you’re hurting me.”
Weber ventured a glance at his partner and immediately regretted it. Kristopher had taken two of the girl’s fingers in each of his hands and was twisting them in opposite directions. Tendons tore free with a loud pop, and the girl started screaming.
“Woah, take it easy,” Weber urged, stepping into the room and putting a hand on Kristopher’s shoulder. “What if someone hears us?”
His partner smirked. “Out here, in the middle of the night? I don’t think so. This house is surrounded by trees on three sides, and the closest neighbor is a block away. But if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you get me something to gag her with?”
The churning had returned, funneling waves of hot bile into Weber’s throat. “Maybe I should keep watch until you’re finished.”
Kristopher put his hand over Hailey’s mouth to muffle her cries, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Without hesitation, Weber pivoted and hurried toward the back door. He went outside, closed the door behind him, and concealed himself behind a propane grill. Taking a deep breath, he listened to the sounds of the night…and the screams coming from inside. Kristopher had been right—even right next to the house, Mitchel could barely hear Hailey’s tortured shrieks.
He exhaled and closed his eyes, feeling relieved. Though he disagreed with Kristopher’s methods, he couldn’t blame the man for satisfying his urges. Weber had tried to ignore his own urges more than once, and it had nearly driven him insane. What really bothered him was the added risk. He’d taken so many precautions and refined his technique to perfection—ensuring he could pursue his hobby for decades if he so desired. Then Kristopher barged into his life like a crazed bull, taking advantage of his expertise and putting the entire operation at risk.
He nodded slowly as he made up his mind. Yes…Kristopher would have to die. Weber had never killed anyone before, but he was certain he could do it and get away with it. It would take some planning, but—
The sound of a branch breaking interrupted his thoughts. It was followed by a rustling, then rapid, whispering footfalls on pavement.
Weber abandoned his hiding place. He slipped inside, locked the door, and peered through the window. He expected to see someone running along the road but saw nothing. A moment later, a cluster of dried leaves began to skip across the pavement as if carried by a rogue breeze.
A chill crept up Weber’s spine, then manifested as goosebumps on his arms. He backed away from the door, turning his head and whispering harshly, “Kris! I think someone’s out there!”
His partner didn’t respond. Instead, he taunted Hailey. “Beg me to stop, bitch. Beg like a dog, even though you know damn well you’re going to die tonight.”
Hailey groaned loudly but offered no pleading to satisfy her tormentor.
“I said beg!” Kristopher bellowed.
Weber reached the room and hissed at his partner. “Will you keep it down! There’s someone outside!”
Kristopher sighed, drew a knife from a sheath on his belt, and sliced a strip of fabric from Hailey’s shirt. He balled up the white cotton and stuffed it into her mouth, then cut the rest of her shirt off and tied it around her head, holding her jaw in place so she couldn’t force the gag out. “We’ll give it a minute or two,” he said, giving her a little kick in the ribs, “then, we’ll pick up where we left off.”
Weber turned off the light and hugged himself as he walked along the hallway. He was used to being the hunter—at one with the darkness—not the prey. Crouching, he stole a glance out the living room window. There was no one in sight. He checked the back door and found it still locked. Then, in an act of uncharacteristic paranoia, he flicked the switch to activate the motion-sensor light.
The yard remained dark.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he whispered to himself.
A sudden flood of light nearly made him jump out of his skin. He crouched instinctively, then he realized it was coming from the family room.
“Now…where were we?” Kris said.
Weber double-checked the front door, then turned the corner into the hallway and froze. There was a shadow looming in the doorway to the family room. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It wasn’t truly a shadow because it stood upright, in mid-air. And a shadow is caused by an object intercepting a ray of light, but this inky shape was like a hole cut into the fabric of reality—darkness itself.
Weber shouted his partner’s name, not as a warning, but as a cry for help. “Kris!”
The shadow moved back, then seemed to step through the wall.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
He gaped like a fish out of water and ran to the family room, skirting the point where the dark shape had vanished. “There was someone in the hallway.”
Kristopher leered at him. “I know what you’re doing—you want me to get this over with so we can run and hide. Well, that’s not going to happen, so why don’t you take a few deep breaths and quit being such a chicken-shit.”
“I’m not lying! I swear I saw something.”
“Something, or someone? Which is it?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
Kristopher rolled his eyes and cracked his knuckles. “I’m not going to let you ruin my night. I’ve been looking forward to this for too long.” He reached for Hailey, but she jerked away. With a sudden burst of energy, she crawled toward the edge of the room on her elbows.
Kristopher smiled. “Mmmm. That’s what I like to see. Sheer terror.” He knelt in front of her and stared into her wide eyes, but her constricted pupils were aimed at a point above his right shoulder. He frowned and glanced back; the room behind him was empty.
Weber noticed her strange gaze and fixated on a spot in front of the television. The air seemed to waver, and the wall beyond was slightly blurred. His mouth went dry, and he pointed a trembling finger. “K-Kris…”
Kristopher clenched his teeth. “What?”
“It’s b-b-behind you.”
Kristopher twisted around, looking irritated. He didn’t notice the distortion in the air. “Quit playing games, Mitch.”
Then, as if poured into a man-shaped cast, the darkness reappeared.
“Holy shit!” Kristopher shouted, losing his balance and landing on his back. As Hailey had done moments before, he used his elbows to crawl away. When he reached the wall, he regained some of his courage and shot to his feet. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll stay the hell away from me if you know what’s good for you!”
Weber wanted to run, but his feet were glued to the floor and his limbs wouldn’t respond. It was as if the god of time had frozen him in place but allowed the rest of the world to carry on.
A flicker of red crept upward along the shadow’s body. It was followed by another, then another, until the shadow was engulfed with crimson flames. But there was no smoke and no heat. Black claws grew out of the creature’s fingers, and it took a step toward Kristopher.
Frightened into action, Kristopher threw a wild punch. But a dark spike jutted out from the creature’s face before the blow could connect. Kristopher impaled his fist on the thorny protrusion, and he roared in pain.
With two swift movements, the beast amputated K
ris’s arm at the wrist and knocked him back. He crashed into the wood-paneled wall, which splintered from the impact. The creature, still wearing the severed hand like a grotesque facial ornament, glanced at Hailey and spoke. “Can you walk?”
Hailey gave a shaking nod.
“Then get up and run.”
She glanced at the door, then lunged forward, crawling on her hands and knees despite her broken fingers and bruised ribs.
The creature’s voice dropped into a monstrous growl, and it faced Kristopher. “And you. You are going to beg me to stop.”
Kristopher swallowed. “What?”
The beast’s voice changed again. This time into a perfect imitation of Kristopher’s. “Beg like a dog, even though you know you’re going to die tonight.”
Kristopher cowered on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and covering his head with his arms. “Please. I—I’m begging you.”
The creature leaned over and whispered, “Good dog,” then buried its claws in Kris’s head.
Weber took a gasping breath and held it, unable to exhale.
The creature flicked its clawed hand, splattering blood and brain matter against the wall. It turned toward Weber and crossed the room in two large steps. “This entire house stinks of your fear. And I could smell your abhorrence of your friend’s actions. Tell me, did you help him bring this about? Answer me truthfully, or your fate will be much worse than his.”
It took Weber nearly ten seconds to find enough courage to whimper his answer. “It was all him—I’m just a lookout, that’s all.”
“If you are lying, the torture will not end until someone arrives to interrupt us. Do you swear you’re telling the truth?”
Weber’s eyes flashed toward Michaela, who was still unconscious on the couch, but he nodded.
The creature rested surprisingly gentle hands on Weber’s shoulders. “Good. I am happy to hear it.” It led Weber down the hallway, then stopped in the living room. “But before I release you, I have one more question.”
Weber swallowed. “Sure. Anything.”
“What is this?”
Weber stared at a glass vial in the creature’s palm. His blood ran cold, and he searched for an explanation, but the gears in his mind had seized up. The creature answered for him.
“It’s chloroform, among other things. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
The world began to spin, and Weber thought he would faint. “Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
His chest rose and fell as he began to hyperventilate. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You don’t even understand the meaning of the word.” The creature dragged a talon across Weber’s forehead, making a shallow cut that spilled blood into his eyes. Then the beast leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “But you will.”
3
Moffat County Combined Courts
Craig, Colorado
Eric and Kayla Larson strode along the narrow sidewalk, completing their twelfth lap around the squat courthouse. They came to a stop in front of a tinted glass door, and Eric folded his arms across his broad chest.
“What the hell is taking that judge so long?” He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “We should be blowing the hinges off the gates of Holy Mountain by now.”
“We aren’t doing anything,” Kayla reminded him. “The police will handle this on their own.
“You know what I mean. It shouldn’t take this long to get a warrant, especially when there are kids involved.”
Kayla sighed. “Holy Mountain is a home rule municipality with its own police force and mayor. Plus, it’s surrounded on all sides by federal land. They can’t just walk in and start shooting.”
“It’s a fortress run by the head of a dangerous cult,” Eric grumbled. “There should be exceptions for places like that.”
“I’m not disagreeing, but there’s nothing we can do until Renner gets the go-ahead.” She pressed her fingers into his meaty palm. “Have you taken your blood pressure meds today?”
Eric scowled at her, but he couldn’t hold the expression for long. After a moment, he gave her a crooked smile, reached into his pocket, and took out a small orange bottle. He tapped two pills into his hand and threw his head back as he dry-swallowed them. “I don’t know how I survived without you.”
“By all accounts, it’s a miracle. Especially considering your personal hygiene.” She made a show of pinching her nose and waving her hand in front of her face.
The big man looked hurt. “Hey, you wouldn’t smell like lavender and roses if you spent a week hiding under a pile of sagebrush.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll never know, will we? Just remember, you were the one who insisted on having ‘eyes on the objective’ at all times.”
Eric frowned. If it was up to her, they would run the entire operation out of a hotel, watching surveillance videos fed to them from cameras with Iridium satellite connectivity. But that was why they made such a great team—she balanced his tactical expertise with technological ingenuity.
And it didn’t hurt that he was head-over-heels in love with her.
Eric and Kayla had been apart for five years after the death of her brother, Hudson Reilly, who had died in Eric’s arms. He blamed himself for Hud’s death, and he abandoned Kayla so he could wallow in his shame. But an old friend arranged for them to work together on a job in Central Africa, and Eric finally let go of his past. After returning to the United States, he and Kayla were swept into a whirlwind romance and eloped less than a month later. He was rehired by his old employer, Thomas Ward, and began working side-by-side with Kayla. They never gave Ward any reason to regret his decision; they completed contracts for private investigation in record time and received stellar reviews from their clients. Then, two weeks ago, Ward received a call from a desperate woman in Colorado, and the Larsons were assigned to the case. The client was the sister of a cultist living inside the mountain. She feared for her sister’s life, but most of all, she feared for her sister’s young daughter, Esther. So far, Eric and Kayla had nothing to show for their efforts. Esther was still trapped inside Holy Mountain, surrounded by crazed cultists and, if the rumors were true, suffering through inhuman atrocities. The video and audio recordings of the boy on the wall had been their first real break, and they were anxious for results.
But, as usual, bureaucracy managed to stand in the way of progress. When Ryan Renner finally opened the tinted door and stepped outside, Eric and Kayla watched him like hungry wolves.
“So? Do you have a warrant?” Eric asked.
Sheriff Renner rubbed at his tired, bloodshot eyes. “It’s…complicated.”
Eric took two deep breaths, barely managing to keep his cool. Instead of speaking, he waited for Kayla to take the lead.
“We understand there are jurisdictional knots to untie,” she said, “but someone in that town called for help more than six hours ago. This response time borders on negligence.”
“Believe me, you’re preaching to the choir. But it isn’t just a jurisdiction issue. Tensions have been high, and we don’t have the kind of assets we need to go marching up the mountain. They’re well-armed, and if someone on the wall flinches, we’ll lose every county deputy we have.”
“What about State?” Kayla asked. “We sent them the evidence right after we sent it to you.”
“They aren’t ready to jump into this with both feet, especially when they have to cross BLM land to get to the mountain in the first place.” Renner sighed and dug at a crack in the sidewalk with the toe of his boot. “Every agency from the county all the way up to the feds is strapped for cash right now. Budgets all over the country have been slashed, ever since the terrorist attacks in June. Right now, I can’t get funding to put shit tickets in the bathroom stalls.”
“What does money have to do with this?” Eric demanded. He pointed to the west. “There’s a kid out there—a bunch of kids—and they’re locked in a cage with a th
ousand self-righteous perverts. They need you to get them out of there.”
The Sheriff’s wind-worn face twisted into a snarl. He thumbed the body camera on his forest-green shirt to turn it off. “You think I want those freaks in my county? I’ve wanted them gone ever since they showed up fifteen years ago. But they’ve got connections—fourteen thousand members worldwide and an army of lawyers, I hear. They aren’t a bunch of peace-loving hippies, either. They’ll fight and die for their leader to the last man, woman, and child. If we want to get those kids out of there safely, we need to play by the rules.”
“What options does that leave us with?” Kayla asked.
Renner retrieved a glossy tin of chewing tobacco from his back pocket, packed it, and tucked a generous pinch into his lower lip. “Judge says I can bring a social worker up the mountain and ask them if we can have the boy from the video checked out by a psychologist. We can’t force the issue because we can’t identify anyone in the video, but it’s a start.”
Eric shook his head. “That’s not good enough.”
“Keep your shirt on, Eric, and let me finish. Nothing the boy says will hold up in court until we have a statement from the psychologist, anyway. And, unless you’ve forgotten, psychologists are required by law to report any evidence of child abuse. When that happens, CPS will have their ticket inside the mountain. And when they find proof that these kids have been moved across state lines—which I can guarantee they have—then the Feds can show up with their helicopters, hostage-rescue team, and anything else we could ask for. It’ll all be over.”
Eric chewed on the plan for a long moment, then gave a half-shrug. “It sounds like it’ll take longer than I had hoped, but it might work.” He shook Renner’s hand. “Thanks for sticking your neck out like this.”
Renner snorted. “This was my case a long time before you two walked in. Nobody wants the mountain cleaned out more than I do.” He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “But I’m thankful for the evidence you brought in. It might mean all the difference.”
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