We used the door to block the dogs from the kitchen. They were bright, and I didn’t put it past them to figure out how to open the cabinets and refrigerator if they concluded they needed a snack and so they were not allowed in the kitchen without one of us here. Now I felt a little frantic: by leaving them to defend the house, I was leaving them as a sacrifice.
Almost as though they understood my concerns, I heard the whimpers of the dogs. I moved to the door and tapped on the panel. Immediately, there was a barrage of barking and the sound of big bodies striking the door.
“Fluffy, Bart,” I yelled.
The turbulence on the other side of the door quieted. I took a sharp breath and opened it, then backed away slightly. The door was shoved in forcibly, and I danced back further to keep my balance. Two sleek bodies burst through, and I received a flood of relief as the dogs circled me, yelping with excitement.
“Dogs,” I said eventually. “Sit.”
They did, and I paused to examine them. I didn't think anyone was still in the house, and I went and turned on the kitchen light. They were alive, but not unscathed. I could see a noticeable swelling on Fluffy’s face below his eye, and a long narrow slice into his skin that appeared to have stopped bleeding. With his excitement fading he moved a little gingerly. I peered over at Bart. He walked with a mild limp, and his lips were drawn back with pain. But they were both standing upright, and I assumed they would heal given care and time.
I surveyed the corridor beyond the kitchen and frowned. It looked like the demolition stopped in the kitchen.
“Did you stop the bad guy?” I asked Bart as he padded next to me. I went outside and drug the body inside the kitchen, quickly searching him. I found a 9mm in a holster. The man carried a weapon. Why didn’t he kill the dogs and go on through? None of Wheadon’s, or the Church’s staff, ever hesitated to shoot first and worry about things later.
Perhaps when thinking of the neighborhood and the proximity to other people he knew gunshots might bring the cops, or the barking of the dogs would have raised the alarm. I thought about the self-defense classes I took during my college years. One of the recommendations was to get a dog, not for the fierceness of it, but the noise they made. The barking itself usually scared away intruders.
The only explanation was an interrupted battle. The man trashed the kitchen and most likely got the door open to the rest of the house. He encountered the trained attack dogs and fought, not firing his weapon, but still wounding the animals. I wondered how he managed to keep the furious dogs from getting to him in the kitchen. When the criminal tried moving into the rest of the house, Fluffy and Bart were enough of a threat to stop him
I more closely examined the dead guy and noticed his left hand was badly bitten. Now I knew where the blood came from. Point dobies.
I roamed through the rest of house, gratified to see the other rooms remained virtually unscathed, finding them as we left them. What were they after? Me? It seemed reasonable. I was, after all, public enemy number one. Ok, perhaps number two, right behind Victor. They also must have a source at the hospital, to have tracked down Alex’s home so quickly.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I needed to care for my guardians. I wasn’t sure what to do with the dogs. They needed a vet to look at their injuries and I was sure Alex didn’t have one. I needed to figure out who else I might turn to.
I grabbed my belongings and stacked my backpack and a few other supplies on the couch in the front room. I paused and examined the dogs. Although they were injured, they didn’t seem to be in too much pain and could walk independently. I hurried into Alex’s bedroom and threw open her closet. I found a little suitcase and packed it for her to use while at the hospital. I wasn’t sure what she would need, but at least she would have a few things. I found her laptop on her dresser in her bedroom and added it to my stockpile. I was again grateful the intruders never made it past the kitchen.
The two dogs fit well in the rental, lying on the backseat in twin furry mounds, and I packed the trunk with Alex and my supplies. I grabbed my keys and pulled the car into the driveway to make it easier to transfer everything. After I checked off my list of requirements, I stood in the kitchen doorway and looked around. I wasn’t sure what to do about the break in.
I shook my head in defeat and pulled the door shut behind me. It wouldn’t close all the way with the broken jam, but it would do. I slid into the car and shut the door, listening as the motor came to life. I buckled my seatbelt and started making calls. I needed to get the dogs settled, to make sure they would be cared for. But I also needed to get back to Alex. I felt a mix of anger and sadness as I pulled away from the house. I wondered if I would ever see it again.
By the time midnight rolled around, I was drained. Kurt came through for me again, turning up a local vet who agreed to treat the dogs as well as board them for me for a few days. I never planned to be a dog owner, but I knew now that following through with their care had become my responsibility.
I called Sister Eva, who was still on guard at the hospital, but when I said I was on my way, she informed me I required some rest for the next day. I wanted to go see Alex, but I knew my body well enough by now and agreed. I could go no further. Since my injury, my strength improved incredibly, but my endurance was not keeping pace. I needed to lie down. Pain medication would help, but it would also dull my senses, and I didn’t want that to happen.
The hotel I chose was a slightly run-down building with twenty-two rooms, the vacancy sign lit in flickering neon like some bad horror flick. I went into the room and did my usual inspection, noticing nothing amiss apart from some suspicious dark colored stains on the carpet. I shoved a chair under the door handle, dumped my backpack on the floor and slipped off my shoes, wandering in socks as I gathered my toiletries. I brushed my teeth and took a hasty shower. In the cloudy mirror, I examined my face. The girl with the changeable eyes stared back at me, my black hair faded to a reddish black brown, an alien in between color. It wouldn’t be long before I looked like myself again, and I regarded that with some trepidation. It wasn’t easy being me.
I pulled on a pair of clean leggings and a long tee shirt and laid out on the still made bed, the case with the katana at my side. And I slept.
Morning was heralded by a chirping sound warning of a call on my cell phone. I noticed the number and answered, expecting to hear Sister Evangeline’s voice. I was not disappointed. We spoke for a few minutes and made arrangements to take care of the dead body at Alex’s house. The good guys used their own version of fixers to handle most any situation.
When we finished, I dressed and packed my few belongings. I felt rested, much stronger than I had the day before. Alex was progressing, according to Sister Eva, and I suspected they were enjoying each other’s company. At the very least, they probably liked telling tales on me.
I unlocked the car and tossed in my belongings, putting the more valuable items in the trunk for safe keeping. I gathered up my evidence from the warehouse and put it in a plastic grocery bag. A professional investigator, I was not. I slipped into the driver’s seat and buckled my seat belt. I was beginning to hate the rental car. I felt like I spent more time in it than talking with Alex or even battling it out with my adversaries. It reminded me of police talk, moments of action sandwiched between long periods of monotony.
I parked at the hospital and was once again in a position where I needed to lock up my katana. I couldn’t stroll into a hospital with it on my hip, and I suspected even the case would bring unwanted attention.
I left the knife in the little holster at my ankle and wore a pair of pants which flared and hid it from view. A loose shirt concealed the .22. I carried a small cross body purse draped so I could travel fast without it being in the way. If there were any police officers around, hoping to get a further statement from my friend, I didn’t want them to see me so obviously armed.
Did I expect trouble in the hospital? No. But I wasn’t one to go unprepared. Not anymore.
I carried the bag I packed for Alex as well as her computer and the grocery bag full of evidence, and held them in one hand, keeping the other free, just in case.
I took the elevator up to the third floor and stepped off. The hallways stretched right and left with medical personnel meandering around, many pushing large, indefinable pieces of equipment. I knew Alex’s room number, but strolled an extra turn around the hallway to scan for safety before I slipped in.
Sister Evangeline sat in a chair pulled up to the bedside table with playing cards laid out in a familiar pattern. Solitaire. When I once ignorantly asked about cards, poker playing, and gambling, Sister Eva smiled at me beatifically, remarking, “We Catholics have a longer rein when it comes to some activities. We must make sure all that extra leash doesn’t hang us in the process.”
The woman was skilled at cards, and I suspected she found a means to pray while playing them. Which was typical of her, to take the ordinary and transform it into something extraordinary.
I let the door swing close behind me. Sister Eva continued to move cards around, her hands flashing pale as she flipped and sorted the deck. Although she didn’t glance my way, I knew she could identify precisely who it was. She was uncanny that way.
“Samantha, so glad you’re back.” Her low voice was soothing, and she tipped up her face to smile at me. “I’m sure Alex feels the same.”
Alex blinked sleepily. A glance told me she had almost been asleep, mesmerized by the movements of the other woman’s hands as she dealt the cards.
“Sam,” Alex said, and a smile curved up one corner of her face. The other side looked like she was smacked with a substantial brick, and I supposed the backhand from the Soulless was a close equivalent. Her one eye was still swollen almost shut, and the skin on her cheekbones was shiny and beginning to go from black to a sickly purple green shade.
“You look like you went up against a heavyweight boxer and lost the battle,” I said, stepping to the other side of the bed.
“That’s about how I feel too,” Alex said. “But don’t try to get out of the explanation. I remember the guy who did this, and he was no fighter.” Her eyes rolled toward Sister Eva. “He looked more like a business man getting ready to go home and have dinner with the wife and kids.” Her speech was a little mushy, and I inwardly cringed. “Of course, when I talked to the cops, I told them I didn’t remember anything about the attack. Head trauma,” she looked at me meaningfully.
“He wasn’t what he looked like,” I answered lamely.
“Don’t worry,” Alex responded, as she narrowed her one good eye on mine. “Sister Eva has told me a lot of what is going on. Stuff I still am having trouble swallowing, to be honest.”
I glanced at the nun. I raised my eyebrows, and she nodded slowly.
“If one of them came after her here, I needed her ready to run if we had to. I needed her to believe in what they were capable of in order to save her.”
“I know,” I responded and bowed my head.
“Now, let me get this straight,” Alex interrupted. “Satan is alive.”
I nodded. I kept glancing at my friend where she remained in the bed, realizing her life was about to take a significant turn. She would never be the girl she once was.
“And there are twelve chosen of Satan.” She peered at Sister Eva. “They are the Infernal Lords. When one dies, another takes his place. And that’s what we came up against yesterday.”
She looked so fatigued, but so serious and so solemn.
“No, not exactly. I have fought Infernal Lords. I know what they feel like. This man, he wasn’t one of the twelve chosen. But Paul Roberts, he wasn’t just a man either.”
“He’s like a vampire, sort of.” Alex looked toward me.
Sister Evangeline said, “That’s what they seem, but they are only the root of the vampire lore. Satan has been sending demon seed to earth for time eternal.” The Sister’s fine lined face was somber. “My order has been battling Satan in his many forms for centuries. This new creation, he is a different form of evil.”
Alex closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. She studied me. “Your father, he really did create a deal with Satan.”
“He did. I didn’t recognize it at the time. I didn’t understand it. I thought he was only insane, and the church was some kind of cult. It started to scare me, though, when I got my hands on the communications between my father and some of the members. When I understood they were proposing something truly appalling, I realized I must step in. It was about that time I realized there was so much more to it. These wasn’t crazy people on a whim. This was the Devil himself.”
“Your father actually saw Satan?”
I looked at my oldest friend. “Yes,” I said simply.
Alex closed her eyes. I watched as she pondered the information. Finally, she opened her eyes again.
“Where’s God in all this?” She was looking at Sister Eva, not me, and I was glad. “Why isn’t He taking over?”
Sister Eva wore a small smile on her face. “Free will can sometimes be hard to understand,” she began.
“But He’s allowing bad things to happen to good people,” Alex protested.
“He’s not allowing, and He is acting on behalf of good people.”
“How?” Alex challenged the older woman. “All I saw in that warehouse was Samantha and me and this thing brought up from hell. Where was God in that picture.”
Sister Eva’s expression didn’t alter. “There,” she said and nodded in my direction.
My life quickly lurched into focus. Vic thought he was the Hand of God, a means for God to deliver some Old Testament justice to those in desperate need of the punishment. At the same time, Sister Eva viewed us as being part of a squad, an intense, battling battalion of God’s soldiers. I couldn’t wrap my head around the two beliefs without my brain aching.
There were things I still needed to complete, and I couldn’t spend my afternoon discussing theological principals and the active participation of saints in today’s world. For now, there were two teams. The good and the bad. I was hanging by my fingernails on the good team. And I planned to do some very bad things to some very bad people.
The trash I brought from the warehouse, as well as the blade in the grocery bag, I did for Sister Eva’s benefit. I was earnestly hoping she would be capable of helping me. I drew out the papers and spread them out on the bedside table, leaving the note crumpled in the bottom of the bag. I didn’t want Alex to see the assholes message. If she was going to worry about me, I didn’t need to give her additional ammunition.
“I found these in the office of the warehouse where we met Satan’s newest little helper,” I told the Sister.
She scrunched her nose. “They stink.”
I nodded. It was probably the old blood writing she was smelling. I could bring that up when we were alone. For now, Alex was following the exchange with sleepy attendance, her eyes drifting shut occasionally.
“I’m hoping some of these might give us a notion of why they rented all these warehouses in the first place.”
I plucked up a receipt, noted it was for a local fast food place, and tossed it in the trash. Three others followed, and I wondered if one of the workers decided to take a few minutes to clean out his wallet. Another one was for a rental car, a full-sized sheet, printed off and signed. The name on the paper was Gerrard Blanton, a new one for me. I didn’t know if old Gerrard was some grunt who happened to pick up the rental car for the boss, or if he was one of the key participants. I offered the sheet to Sister Eva, and she read it silently. I doubted even she could recall all of the members of the Church of the Light Reclaimed, but there was a chance she might have observed something. She didn’t.
“What else have you got there?” Her speech was pitched low, and I glanced over to see Alex was sleeping deeply.
I dragged out the note, still stinking of Roberts’s blood, and handed it over to Sister Eva. Her face puckered up in revuls
ion, but she accepted the note.
“I do not like this,” she said solemnly, her accent suddenly thicker. “Why is he inviting you to come to him? Why does he want your attentions?”
“I don’t know,” I answered sincerely. “I may have pissed, um, made him mad, but I don’t think it sounds like it would be his only reason.”
“No, it is not,” Sister Evangeline looked at me intensely. “This is troubling.”
We went through the other papers in the manila folder, finding several receipts printed in other languages. I knew only a smattering of Spanish, and I wished now I paid better attention to my classes.
Sister Eva informed me the papers weren’t in Spanish, nor French, German, or any of the other languages she was fluent in.
“I will have to send a copy of these to the abbey,” she announced, frowning. “Sister Hilaria will be able to translate them for us.”
“Are you sure?”
Sister Eva slanted me a look. “Sister Hilaria is blessed with an unusually powerful gift. She will be able to read these with ease.”
“How are you going to send them to her?” I asked, thinking, for a moment, perhaps she hadn’t figured out this plan of hers completely through.
“I will, of course, scan a copy and send it,” she replied archly, but I saw a glitter of humor in her eyes. Yes, these ladies were smart, and they could also hold their own in a battle, but they were slow to catch up with technology. It seemed somewhere along the way, they were getting some guidance on that front too.
I observed as she took a photograph of the pages using her phone and camera, then sent them off. As we were waiting for the reply, I paged through some of the papers I scooped off the floor in the office of the warehouse. These were in better shape, wrinkled and still legible. Some were also in English, but it didn’t automatically help me understand what they were.
Sister Evangeline looked at me over a graphic, frowning. “I think I know what these are,” she declared.
I waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, asked, “What?”
Vengeance (A Samantha Tyler Thriller Book 1) Page 10
