The two replaced everything in the office like they had found it and speed walked out of the Hermes. The ride back to Samantha’s place was uneventful and Marshall soon found himself once again sitting at her kitchen table. The book was open in front of him to his left and her laptop on his right.
“Need anything?” Samantha asked as she looked out the kitchen window, examining her street for anything out of place.
“Do you have beer?”
Samantha turned and frowned. “Yeah, I do, but it’s not even lunch time yet.”
Marshall let out a big sigh. “Well, between the pain in my wrists and head and the fact that were going to a showdown with a group of immortal beings, can you blame me?”
Samantha walked over to her refrigerator pulled out a beer. She handed it to Marshall. “Here. I can help. What’s the game plan?”
“We need to find common words to decipher. I think if we can translate enough of this we—”
“Marshall, we have hours before we have to deliver this book in exchange for someone’s life and we need to find an answer. Wouldn’t it be easier to just find someone who already can speak this language?”
“Yeah, I guess, but where? Who are we going to get to help us on such short notice?”
“Maybe we can call a college or a museum of some kind.”
Marshall took a draught from the cold beer and smiled as a thought formed. “I think I might know a certain coroner who can help us.”
Samantha gave him a look that said he was crazy. “Are you that much of a lightweight? What are you talking about?”
Marshall’s phone had been lost or taken from him the previous night but he picked up Samantha’s from the table. “May I?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
“Please, be my guest.”
Marshall punched in a few numbers and held the cell phone to his head. He winced as the phone brushed part of the bandage he wore around his forehead. The pain had mostly subsided, but only mostly.
“Hello?”
“Joseph, it’s me.”
“Whose phone are you calling from?”
“Samantha’s. I need to talk to you.”
“Who’s Samantha?”
“I’ll explain later. I need your help. Can you get off work?”
“One, this already sounds shady, and two, who’s Samantha? Is she hot?”
Marshall leaned back from Samantha, who sat in the chair next to him still thumbing through the ancient book. “Yes, but that’s not important right now. How’s your Indian?”
“What?”
“I mean can you read your Native American language still?”
“Dude, that’s pretty racist. I’m Chumash—get it right. Yeah. I can probably get by. Why?”
“Just get to this address and I’ll explain.” Marshall pulled the phone from his ear and looked at Samantha for her address.
She tore her eyes away from the book and gave him a sly smile. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
Marshall’s face turned bright red and he stumbled for words. Joseph’s voice on the other end didn’t help. “Oh man, she got you good. I can’t wait to meet this chick.”
***
“Remember, if we tell him too much, we endanger his life, too. It’s a book that we found and we think it could be worth money. That’s it.” Marshall hated lying to his best friend. He’d already involved Samantha, but then, he had no choice. Now he did.
“Got it. Might want to take off those bandages, he’ll just have more questions if he sees you like that. The bleeding should have stopped by now.”
Marshall nodded and Samantha slowly unwrapped his wrists and forehead. The bleeding had stopped and his wrists just looked like raw pieces of meat. He couldn’t see the back of his head, but the cool air stung his scalp.
“How’s it feel?” Samantha asked, giving a wince of empathy.
“It’s fine. I can barely feel it.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
There was a knock on the door and Marshall looked through the peephole just to make sure it wasn’t a dark cloaked figure. It was Joseph standing on the porch looking right back into the keyhole. “Let’s hope he can’t tell.”
Marshall opened the door and welcomed his friend with a warm smile. “Hey, man, thanks for coming so quick. Come on in.”
Joseph stepped inside and raised his eyebrows as he examined the house and Samantha. “Nice—place. It must be yours. I’m Joseph.”
Samantha smiled and took his hand. “Samantha. Thank you and it’s nice to meet you. Please come on in and take a seat.”
The trio walked into the family room and sat on the comfortable couches. “So you guys found some kind of old Indian book?”
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Marshall picked up the book from the coffee table taking care not to bend or twist the binding and laid it carefully in Joseph’s hands. “We were hoping you could read it for us and tell us what it says.”
Joseph took the book and opened the front cover. His eyes widened more and more with the turn of each page. “Where did you say you found this?”
“Oh, I found it today at a yard sale. It was super cheap and looked really cool, so I figured what the heck,” Samantha said.
They sat in silence as Joseph turned page after page.
“Can you read it? What does it say?” Marshall asked.
“Well, it looks like it’s written in Chumash but a much older version than is spoken today. I can make out most of it but other words I don’t recognize.”
“What is the book about?” Samantha urged.
Joseph squinted at the book one last time and then looked at each of them in turn. “This is some weird stuff. It looks like a history or a recounting of a tribe of ancient Indians.”
Marshall was becoming inpatient with his friend. It was approaching six o’clock and they had just a few hours left until they would be face to face with the Lloyd family. “Weird, is there like a overlying theme or—” An idea popped into Marshall’s head and he reached over and turned the pages of the old book until they were looking at the picture of the person on fire.
“We found this picture and thought it was really disturbing. Can you read what it’s about?”
Joseph eyes doubled in size as he read the page opposite the picture. “It’s broken and there are words I can’t make out but basically it says ‘the only way to kill them is to send them back to ash. The eternal beings can only be laid to rest by fire.’”
Marshall and Samantha looked at one another in triumph. As much triumph as they could muster after finding out the only way to kill someone was to light them on fire.
“What kind of book is this?” Joseph flipped through the pages to another section.
“Who knows, man—sounds like a book of fairy tales or something. Samantha was hoping it would be worth money, but—,” Marshall said. His mind was reeling with the possibility of being able to kill one of the immortals now and all the implications that brought.
“Well, thanks so much for taking a look at the book. Can I get you something to drink?” Samantha asked politely as she reached for the book and practically grabbed it out of Joseph’s hands.
“Ummm… no, no. That’s okay,” Joseph said in a dazed manner. He was still trying to comprehend what he had been reading. “I hate to be rude but I need to get going anyway. I have an early shift at work tomorrow.”
Marshall and Samantha both let out a sigh of relief. They had plans to make and if Joseph was going to be left in the dark, they needed him gone to make them.
“No worries. Thanks for stopping by,” Samantha said as they rose and walked to the door.
“No problem. we’ll have to all hang out sometime soon when I don’t have to leave so quickly,” Joseph said. He hesitated at the door and looked at his high school friend. “Whatever is going on, be careful.”
“What are you talking about?” Marshall asked even though he knew exactly what Joseph was referencing.
“If you don’t want
to tell me, that’s fine, but don’t think I’m stupid.”
“You know I don’t. You just have to trust me on this one. I’m okay. It’s work related and I can’t say much.”
“All right. You might wanna get a band aid or something.”
“What?”
Joseph pointed to Marshall’s left wrist. “Your wrist is starting to bleed again.”
Chapter 26
“We’ll need a lot of gasoline if this is going to work and even more luck.”
“Don’t worry so much. It will work.”
Marshall drove to Diane Whitmer’s warehouse again but this time Samantha was in the passenger seat. After Joseph left, they had spent the next hour brainstorming how they were going to save Diane Whitmer from the Lloyd family and in the process, survive. It was Samantha who had finally come up with the plan, and although Marshall didn’t like it, it was the best idea they had.
“If the warehouse has half the stuff in it you say it does, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Marshall looked down at the clock. It was already eight. The meeting would take place in four hours; they might just have enough time if they hurried. The sky was dark and clear and the weather warm as they drove with the windows rolled down. Marshall couldn’t help but think of Samantha’s adopted grandfather and how she would react if they had to kill him.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Of course I am. I’m the one that came up with the idea, remember?”
“I know, but I mean if things go bad and if it comes down to it, can you go through with actually killing your grandfather?”
Samantha sat quietly next to him staring out the window. She was a picture of beauty and fury rolled into one. Her black hair was loose and blowing in the breeze. “I’ll do what needs to be done. After hearing what he said on the phone—I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else.”
That was enough for Marshall. He could tell the subject was still upsetting her but there was no doubt in his mind that she would back him up.
“Well, here it is,” Marshall said as he pulled into the driveway of the warehouse.
They both stepped out of the car and headed over to the side entrance. The door was hanging off its hinges and the dark interior looked thrashed. “Nice. Does it always look like this?”
Marshall motioned for her to stand back as he crept toward the open door. He frowned as Samantha matched him step for step. “Hey, let me check this out before we go in.”
Samantha scowled. “You? I’m the one with the cannon. You should let me check this out.”
Marshall looked down. Sure enough, Samantha was gripping the handle of her gun in both hands. Arms pointed straight down while still in a crouch, she looked like a trained professional.
As much as Marshall’s male genes insisted he go first, she did have a point. Marshall spread his arms open for her to take the lead and followed close behind.
The large door on the side of the warehouse had been forced open. Someone had not taken to kindly to being locked out and it looked like there were bullet holes where the bolt lock had once been.
Samantha carefully stepped over the fallen door and entered the dark interior. Everything was quiet, dead still—until Marshall’s shoestring caught on the corner of the door. The fallen door was dragged a few inches and a loud grating sounds shattered the silence.
Samantha looked back at him with an expression that said, “Really?”
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
She took the lead again and they walked through the long aisles. Nothing was as Marshall remembered. He had seen the warehouse filled with Diane Whitmer’s research. All had been clean and orderly, like a store. Someone had clearly been here already. Everything was a mess. Some aisles were impassible due to so much clutter on the floor; others had been completely blocked by fallen racks.
“Is this normal?” Samantha whispered.
“No. Someone was here before us, probably looking for the book.”
The two walked up and down the aisles until they were satisfied that whoever had been there was gone now. Marshall walked to the door and flipped on the large halogen lamps that hung from the vaulted ceiling. Bright light cut through the darkness and the two had a better idea of how badly the warehouse had been ransacked.
To say it was a mess was a vast understatement. Whoever had done this had been in a hurry and hadn’t given a second thought to the chaos left in their wake.
“You think one of them was in here looking for the book?” Samantha asked.
“Yeah, I think so. They must have been pissed after they searched this entire place without finding it.”
Samantha nodded. “Well, let’s get to work. We need those supplies.”
Plan A was to make a simple exchange. Diane Whitmer’s life for the book they had found. However, everything didn’t always go as planned and Samantha and Marshall were here to prepare for plan B, C, and D.
Marshall found an old bottle of whiskey as the two worked in the warehouse and didn’t hesitate to unscrew the lid and take a long, painful draught. Samantha eyed him from her side of the table with a disapproving look.
“Oh sorry,” Marshall said, wiping his mouth. “Want some?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m going to try and NOT get drunk before we rush in to fight a group of immortal humans.”
“I’m not drunk. It’s just something to take the edge off.”
“Really? It has nothing to do with the real reason you’ve been investigating my family—I mean the Lloyd family?”
Marshall furrowed his brow and defiantly took another drink from the bottle. Samantha looked on, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” Marshall asked.
“I mean that I get you’re a reporter and it’s your job to find the truth, but it’s hard for me to imagine that you started going through all of this simply for a stranger’s death. You didn’t even know Barbara Summers and that’s why you started looking into Wakan Canyon and the Lloyd family, right?”
Marshall hated how Samantha was so smart. “Yeah, so? I have my own reasons just like you. You want to get back at your family for lying to you and treating you like a pawn, don’t you?”
“Maybe, but you know my reason. What’s yours? And don’t take another drink from that bottle or I swear I’m not letting you drive.”
Marshall begrudgingly put the bottle down, “What are you, the sober patrol?”
“Maybe. I am the one with the gun. Now answer the question. What’s your vendetta against the Lloyd family?”
“It’s my sister, all right? She was found dead six years ago, almost exactly like Barbara Summers. Her death was blamed on a hit and run and the driver was never caught.” Marshall’s vision was starting to blur as he was forced to revisit past memories. Stupid alcohol making me feel like this.
“I never dealt with her death like I should have and I know that. I pushed it deep down inside. I’ve suppressed it so much I can’t even remember what my sister looks like anymore. How dumb is that? But there’s this voice in my head that tells me her death wasn’t an accident and that the only way to move past this is to find out what really happened to her. I think the Lloyd family killed her for one of their sick rituals and I need to know for sure.”
Samantha stood quiet for a moment. They both looked at one another across the table. Marshall rubbed at both his eyes before he looked down and continued working. This is so stupid. She’s been dead for six years and you’re still tearing up like a little kid. And right in front of the girl who… Marshall closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out with his left hand to grab the bottle again. Instead, his hand closed around a warm soft hand and he looked up to see Samantha standing next to him.
“It’s not your fault.”
Marshall looked up and nodded. “I know that.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said again.
He turned to face her, still holding her hand. “I know it’s not.”
“Do you?”
“We’re going to find out what happened to your sister and the truth about why the family adopted me and let me live. But none of this is your fault.”
Marshall thought he could spend an eternity in her arms but pulled back, wiping his face again. “Thanks. How are you holding up?”
Marshall looked at her and saw tears in her eyes as well. “I’m taking the Marshall Montgomery approach to things right now. Holding back my emotions until this is over. There will be plenty of time for sadness, worry, doubt, and oh yeah, my personal favorite, fear.”
Marshall reached back for her and pulled her close again. “You don’t have to be afraid. You never have to be afraid again. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Samantha smiled and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I know. For the first time in a long time I’ve feel like I’ve found someone who gets me.”
Marshall smiled, placing his palms on her cheeks and gently wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, I get you. I get all the fantasy and fiction references, I understand you are a wizard with cars and motorcycles, and I think you are the single most gorgeous thing I have ever set my eyes on.”
What happened next can be described as nothing else but natural. Their lips gravitated toward one another like an invisible force was pulling them together. When their lips finally met it was as though Marshall had just drank the entire bottle of whisky in one gulp.
His head was light, joy sprang in his heart when he had no reason to be happy, and hope formed. A hope that said they could make it through this. That they were going to be okay, that they had to be okay because now they had each other. And they couldn’t lose what they had just found.
Bad Land Page 14
