I nodded and turned toward the door. I felt an icy wave of apprehension, but kept my feet moving. As I eased into the ballroom, I glanced over my shoulder and watched Mrs. Ashwood take her seat again. Her fine lined face was at ease and she looked perfectly comfortable to be left out there alone. I supposed she would be safe enough. She was among her kind.
Abe stood inside the door, his eyes shrewd as I approached. “Let’s circulate,” I whispered. Without the guiding hand of Carter, we proceeded through the clusters of chattering people, getting caught often for quick air kisses and pretenses of concern. It seemed unbelievable to me that I was seeing these people again. Behind the smooth rouged facades of the women, I kept reading evil glints in their eyes and forced myself to use some of my hard-won talents I sharpened at the abbey. My eyes scanned over the coiffed heads and bland faces and I tried to determine what my intuition was telling me. How many of these people were what they appeared on the surface? Government officials with their minds full of next week’s bills and rallies? And how many were Church members.
Despite my father and I being from Philadelphia, many of the Republican party were from the South, and the current Majority Leader of the Senate hailed from Kentucky, which is why they choose Louisville to host the event honoring him, part of a program sponsored by the University of Louisville.
I found politics to be quite boring, even with my father rising to the top of the political food chain. I remembered a joke someone once told my father. “What do you call a thousand politicians at the bottom of the ocean? A good start.”
Tonight there were senators, congressmen and a couple of governors along with their spouses and aides. Abe and I moved among them and I tried to listen for snippets of conversation which might aid me.
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck and turned casually. Someone was observing me; I was completely confident of it. I caught Abe’s sleeve.
“Do you feel anything?”
For most people in most situations, this would be an odd question. Not for him. “Something feels off,” he agreed. “Have you accomplished what you came here to do?” His speech held a slight tension not there before. I frowned, my eyes still scouring the throng. The last thing I wanted was some kind of holy battle here at the Seelbach. There were far too many innocent people to be caught in the crossfire.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m ready.”
Decorum dictated I bid farewell to at least a few of my father’s old cronies, but I wasn’t here to be Miss Congeniality. I headed toward the doorway with Abraham’s tall form behind me. I felt confident he was watching my back, and it made me feel safe. I could only hope he fought as well as I assumed he could. I was trusting him.
We used the valet parking when we arrived, so I was surprised when Abe guided me toward the hotel’s garage. At this hour, there were few other guests around, but I wasn’t going to stop Abe and ask him the reason for this change in plan. He moved fast, long legs eating up the pavement as we entered the garage, while he held a firm hand on my arm. All fine with me with my senses were in overdrive; so much so I used my free hand to grasp my gun in my bag.
There was a subtle click in the distance, and Abe tackled me to the ground. I went down hard on my knees, the dress no help in protecting my skin, and sensed rather than heard the bullet wiz over my head. When I reversed position with the gun out, I saw Abe crouched down, body low and his weapon in hand. I felt an upsurge of anger. If I came on my own, I would be bleeding out on the ground with a bullet in my back. It made me furious, my stupidity. I saw the figure of a man slip between cement pylons and watched as Abe took aim. The movement was too quick, and Abe ducked and dodged as another bullet flew past, the silencer from the shooter reducing the sound to a muffled bang. I scrambled behind a car, easing myself into position. I kicked off the high heels, wanting to be able to move fast, then seized one, gripping it tightly with the wickedly sharp heel facing out.
I heard a shuffle from behind me and spun as a slender man all in black came whipping around the hood of the car with his gun out.
He wasn’t watching close enough, and when I struck with the shoe, the sharp heel cut a deep gash in the back of his hand, a scrap of white bone showing through the torn flesh. He instinctively dropped the pistol, an unheard expletive bursting from his lips the moment I shoved my gun under his chin and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet entered his skull, rattled around a bit and stopped. The man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. I whirled and kicked his weapon away as swiftly as I could. I heard the gun go skittering and I kept my eyes searching for another adversary. Another shot rang out, the bullet tripping across the hood of the car in front of me and burying itself in the cement wall of the garage. Damn, but it was close. I started to run.
The first miss was because of Abraham’s interference. The next two were aiming at a moving target. I didn’t want the bad guy to benefit from my slow response time. When I saw the shape move again, I dropped into a round and sent off a shot from my .22, the sound reverberating in the garage. I heard a grunt and a thud, and saw one man fall hard on his back, his hand over his chest.
I wore a grim smile of satisfaction on my face when I heard a scream from somewhere behind me. I cursed realizing we were no longer alone with our enemies in the garage. There were innocent people here, and there would soon be cops.
Almost as though the shooter had the same thought, I saw him regain his feet and withdraw further, sending out another shot that went wild, a cover for his movements.
“Let’s go.” Abe growled, running toward me, moving fast and low.
I raced after him, my dress flapping as I ran, my feet hitting the pavement with a barely audible pat. I almost ran into Abe as he stopped short next to a nondescript grey SUV. It chirped as the doors unlocked, and I ran to the other side and threw myself into the passenger seat. There was no ceremony now.
Abe slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door closed and started the car at the same time. He put on his seat belt, and I did the same. He reversed from the parking space and then laid on the gas, the car moving fast down the rows of parked cars in the garage. I braced my arm automatically on the door. By the time we reached the cashier’s gate, his driving settled into a normal speed.
Lucky for us, the gate was up and the ticket shack empty. We slipped onto a one-way street by Fourth Street Live and headed toward the interstate. I kept checking behind, looking for anyone following. We eased onto the I-65 ramp and I turned around in my seat.
“Who do you think that was?” I asked, a little breathlessly.
“Maybe I should be asking you that,” he responded. “These were your father’s old colleagues. Any idea who might want to get rid of you?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a sickness in the pit of my stomach.
“Honestly, it could have been several people, a lot of people. I wish I knew who on his congressional staff was also a card-carrying member of the Church.”
“The Church of the Light Reclaimed.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable they’ve gotten this vast, this powerful.” His eyes scanned the road ahead of us, the mirrors, and the instrument panel, keeping our speed even with the traffic.
“They’ve got some help,” I replied.
“Indeed.” I saw his eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror and he cursed under his breath.
“What?” Abe followed the exit to I-64 east, moving out of town, his speed increasing.
“We’ve got a follower,” he replied.
I turned to see a line of cars behind us, all looking like usual traffic, twin headlights stretching into the distance.
“It’s a black Lexus, four cars back. I saw it follow us as we got onto the ramp. He’s been with us the whole time.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.” As though predicting the move, I saw two of the cars behind us merge onto the ramp. At the split, there was a fifty-fifty chance they would have gone our way, but the black
Lexus was there.
I thought of the car chases I watched on TV, the crazy stunt men, the final scene resulting in a ball of flame and metal. I sure didn’t want to die like my father, a casualty of an automobile accident/bombing.
“Can you lose him?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replied. He continued to accelerate, moving smoothly between cars, occasionally passing in the slow lane. I thought of how many times I saw people pulled over by the police on this stretch of road and hoped there weren’t any officers to see our maneuvering.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we flew past yet another car.
“Right here,” Abe replied. With those words, he crossed over two lanes, horns blaring in our wake, and cut onto a ramp. I watched one of the cars he cut off slam on the breaks and get rear ended by the Lexus, steam rising from the front of his car.
At the bottom of the ramp, he merged into the traffic, at this time of night, mercifully light, and took a left. We were going down Canons Lane in St. Matthews, Abe having abandoned the bigger street for the densely populated neighborhoods almost as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He dropped the speed to something close to the posted limit and took several more turns. Ten minutes later he pulled into the driveway of a dark house and turned off the headlights, leaving us in the waning light of the moon.
“Now what?” I discovered I preferred to whisper, even though I knew no one could overhear us through the glass.
“We wait.”
I nodded. Now that we were still, I was feeling the bite of my collision with the asphalt. My knees were tender, as were the heels of my hands where I caught myself. I raised my palms to look at the scuffed skin.
“Sorry about that.”
“Sorry?” I gave a humorless chuckle. “You saved my life, Abe. There is nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for what you did.”
He glanced toward me, the light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. “You're welcome.” He smiled a bit. “You did a nice job not getting shot and then taking out the competition.”
“My specialty,” I answered dryly. “Give me a moment. With a dead body, we are going to need some help.”
I slipped my phone out of my bag and called Kurt. When he answered, I told him what I needed.
“Kurt, I was forced to kill a guy tonight in the garage at the Seelbach Hotel. Think you can get into their security system and wipe the security footage?”
“Sister, I hacked into their systems years ago. Easy-peasy. You OK?”
“I’m fine. Thanks, Kurt. I’ll let you go. I need you to beat the cops to the tapes.”
I hung up, returned the phone to my purse and turned to Abe. “How did you get roped into this job? How do you know Brother J?”
Abe leaned back in his seat. “I’ve known him for most of my adult life,” he replied, the quirky smile appearing again.
“Really,” I said, then a thought flashed. “You’re not a Priest or Brother are you?”
The smile turned into a chuckle. “An altar boy long ago, maybe, but no further.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Just checking. It seems like most of Brother J’s best buddies are in some divine order or another.”
“Well, I’m not saying he wouldn’t like me to join him, but I have my own interests to look out for at the moment.”
I wouldn’t ask. Asking too much landed me with a bunch of mystical nuns in France. Sometimes it was better to take someone at his word. If Abe wanted me to know, I was sure he would tell me. Besides, I didn’t want to get into a discussion where he would want me to return the favor.
“Well, I’m glad you were able to help out tonight. And thanks again.”
“Delighted to be of service, Samantha Tyler,” Abe responded. In the cover of darkness, I could hear a far-off dog barking and the wail of police sirens in the distance. “And now let’s see if we can get you home.”
Chapter Nine
At my house, I refused Abe’s offer to come in and go through it for me. I wasn’t some damsel in distress, but I refrained from telling him so. There was a time when I held onto my women’s equality with both hands. Now it seemed unnecessary. I knew my strengths and was confident in them. I could kick ass with the best of them, man or woman. Instead, I bid him goodnight and closed the front door, engaging the lock as I heard his receding footsteps.
I checked through the dwelling, examining specifically placed objects, elementary booby traps, to give me a clue if anyone broke into my house while I was away. I noticed nothing amiss, and after checking door and window locks, collected my weapons and laid them out on the kitchen table.
In the bathroom, I took a particularly hot shower and used the first aid kit to bandage my knees and treat my scraped hands. I dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and checked the clock. It was almost midnight, but it seemed later.
I switched on my computer and pulled up the email account. I typed out a brief message to the abbey about my latest activities, glossing over some of the more violent episodes, although I knew full well they saw their fair share of violence.
I texted Alex, instructing her to call me in the morning and assuring her I was fine. I knew she and Sister Eva planned to come soon and felt mixed emotions over our reunion. Alex couldn’t return home as long as Roberts was on the loose; she would be vulnerable while he walked the streets. That was my error. He wasn’t going to forget either of us soon. As a direct result, I was going to dedicate my time and energy to hunting down the demon and get rid of him, allowing Alex to return to her normal, although fundamentally altered life.
I slept well, recognizing since my sojourn at the abbey, I was unlikely to doze more than a few hours at a time. Their habitual rhythm of prayers ingrained in me a schedule of wakefulness and sleep. I passed the night with that pattern, and woke the next morning feeling invigorated and determined.
I was draining my second cup of coffee and working on the computer I picked up from Kurt’s friend Rob when I heard a motor. Instead of the customary increase and decrease of strength as the vehicle rumbled past my driveway, I was aware of the sound’s continued steady thrum. Someone pulled into my driveway.
I stood, my hands first moving to my katana in the open case. I faltered. If I swung open the door on an innocent Girl Scout selling cookies, I was likely to scare her to death. I picked up the little .22 and tucked it into the small of my back.
In the living room, I eased next to the door and peered around the wooden frame. I heard the slam of a car door, echoed by a second bang, and the sound of voices, feminine. A familiar laugh allowed me to relax and I opened the front door to see Sister Evangeline, in full habit again, striding with Alex up the walk. If any of the neighbors watched, I was pretty sure I was gaining an audience because the combination of the two women was startling. Added to them, two sleek dogs were frolicking in the grass bordering the walk, evidently intrigued by the scent of long gone cats or squirrels. When they discovered the door open, they abandoned their trail and headed my way, doggy faces luminous with canine delight. Fluffy and Bart were back.
I tugged the door further and dropped into a squat to hug the dogs. I ran my fingers over their sharply cropped ears, sorry they were put into a situation which demanded a type of barbarism. Their discipline and training were rigorous, but they weren’t ruined for it.
“Hey, you hug the dogs and ignore me,” Alex said dryly.
I rose and peered at her, my eyes going first to the bruises, now greening up nicely as they healed, to her wildly curling hair. She reached out and hugged me hard, and I bowed my head, my heart aching.
“I’m so sorry, Al,” I said.
“Sorry for what?” She drew back and studied me, a hard glint in her eye. “What makes you think I can’t handle myself? I’ve got a much better understanding of what we’re up against now, and you can bet your boots I’m going after that thing,” she spit out the word like it was something foul. “I know charging him like I did was a mistake, and I won’t make it again.”
“
I put you in the situation.”
“Yes, but I knew it was something serious to you. And I recognized it was dangerous. We went in armed. I was a jackass for going after him with the shelf. I harbored this idiot notion I wanted to disable him without using the gun. It was a stupid idea. I should have shot the,” she interrupted her remarks, realizing Sister Eva was standing at her shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m not going to let him stop us now.” She glanced at Sister Eva. “We aren’t,” she amended.
I stepped back. “Come in, then. We need to talk.”
Alex was grinning, despite her obvious injury, and I rolled my eyes. She was turning out to be as bad as Vic. Sister Eva stopped for a second, pausing to take my hand as I closed the door. I could recall another occasion she did the same thing, her cool papery skin against my palm, a time when I thought my world was spinning out of control.
“Why am I here?” I was asking with equal parts exasperation and frustration. Therapy was over for the day, and my hip and side were throbbing. I refused most pain medication. It would dull my senses, and I couldn’t tolerate it doing so.
“You are here to prepare for bataille.”
I blinked up at the figure in the habit, her veil shrouding her head, draping over her shoulders to blend with the long robe she wore. When she moved, her rosary beads tucked into her simple belt rattled. Beneath the hem of her gown, I could see the tops of leather shoes, practical for walking out in all weather, peeking out.
“What type of battle do you mean?” I got to my feet, struggling to disguise my discomfort.
“Samantha, we know who you are, and what you are,” Sister Evangeline said patiently, but firmly. “Sister Elsbeth has been working exceedingly hard to heal you from your injuries, both spiritual and physical.” She paused. “But there is a great wealth of knowledge we are prepared to bestow upon you, skills that will help in your battle for our Lord.”
“I’m not interested in prayer,” I answered curtly.
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