An Embarrassment of Monsters: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 3)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Owen frowned when he saw three heat signatures inside the cabin. One human form was large, similar in size to Owen’s, one form was smaller, most likely a child, and one was clearly a dog. They were all three clustered together in a corner of the cabin, and Owen could only assume it meant they shared a bed.

  Well, fuck.

  Kelly hadn’t mentioned Warrant keeping any of the kids inside as sequestered pets. That was before he dumped Kelly to die, leaving Shiloh defenseless. Somehow, Owen knew what he was going to find when he entered that cabin, and the idea made his stomach churn. Even if it wasn’t Shiloh, the idea of the man abusing any of the kids in that way promised to earn him a harder death. Now to sort out what this means to the changed plan. He picked up speed, traveling at a quick trot to put more distance between him and where Kelly would begin his trek. It might gain him five extra minutes, and he planned on using each of them wisely.

  Well before he was ready, Owen could see the forest falling away from the road ahead, thinning and sweeping out to each side in a wide arc, making up the outer circumference of the clearing that held the cabin. Before he got any closer, he set the drone’s audio system to broadcast. Immediately, he saw the heat signatures representing the dogs stir and get to their feet, pacing back and forth in short arcs.

  Kneeling next to the tiny enclosure that housed the battery array, he yanked the door open, surprised there was no lock or security in place. Of course, the presence of the wire prevented the kids from accessing it, so it made a kind of backwards sense Warrant would see no reason to lock it up. Not the sharpest crayon in the box. Owen tapped a fingertip against his chest to activate a dim light bar he’d strapped to the harness. He pulled out his jumper, positioning the alligator clips expertly and pausing only for an instant to verify his accuracy. He attached a small battery pack to one of the clips and used a custom ohm-meter to test the results. Once certain everything was in place, he disconnected the terminals from the industrial batteries one at a time, ensuring the leads were laid to the side without causing a flash or spark, and without interfering with the bypass he’d put into place. He toggled his light off, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the dark again.

  A brief glance at the dimmed tablet screen showed the dogs had done as expected, migrating away from the sound and towards the far outside edge of the fenced-in area. They would have become conditioned exactly like the children, and if anticipating pain from close proximity, probably wouldn’t encroach upon a broad swath of ground on the inside of the buried wire. Still, they’d moved towards the back of the house where the lean-to was, which put the house itself between him and them, and gave him even more protective cover against their alerting reaction. The dog’s silhouette had disappeared from the cabin, and Owen wondered if there was an access door he didn’t know about. Probably a doggy door. He dismissed the information, caring only that with the dog gone from inside, it left things wide open for him.

  Moving at a crouched run, he darted through the yard and alongside Warrant’s truck, bending to pull a wide-bladed knife from a sheath strapped to his calf. Two firm thrusts of the weapon later and the truck listed steeply to one side, the passenger side tires flat and useless. Owen’s gaze went between the gray-hued screen on the tablet and the darkness ahead of him, where half a dozen children were curled into individual heaps on the cold ground. He easily identified himself, then mentally mapped his route to the cabin’s door. Reaching into the tiny pack strapped to his waist, he brought out the mask matching the one he’d worn while working the warehouse mission and pulled it on, the wide elastic strap secure around the back of his head. He didn’t like it, hadn’t liked wearing it before, because the eyeholes restricted his field of vision. But the mask had become a critical piece of the plan tonight, which meant he had to simply deal.

  Still in a crouch, he took the remembered pattern of strides and sidesteps at half speed, keeping each footfall as silent as possible. On the porch, he froze in place when a board underfoot groaned loudly. One of the dogs reacted, visible via the tablet, but none of the kids even moved. They were either too well-conditioned to remain still, or all truly sleeping through the aches of the cold night.

  The door opened easily under his hand, the knob twisting without resistance as Owen let himself inside. Knock, knock, motherfucker. The original plan had been to incapacitate Warrant silently, giving Kelly a chance to find and remove Shiloh from the equation. Owen peered through the darkness, seeing the pale circle of a tiny face framed by a mass of tangled hair against the covers. Long tresses didn’t mean it was Shiloh for certain, but at this point, Owen didn’t hold out hope it would be any other child.

  Owen was glad Kelly hadn’t expressed any discomfort about the idea of trekking alone through the dark woods, something most kids would balk at. Knowing the boy would be walking on the rough driveway most of the way to the clearing and not through the woods proper, made it a little easier to bear. Now, Owen just had to hope Shiloh was made from the same tough stock, able to follow instructions to get her out of the cabin without losing her shit.

  First up was to deal with Warrant.

  Owen approached the bed, positively identified his target in the near dark, and leaned in with his hand positioned for a blood choke hold. Fingers digging into the puffy flesh of the man’s neck, he compressed the internal and external carotid arteries for a count of thirty, angling for the vagus nerve as well, to slow the man’s heartbeat. Owen wasn’t concerned with causing brain damage but wanted a minimum two-minute window to restrain and gag the man.

  Warrant’s arms and legs flopped like an annoying dead weight, making it harder for Owen to wrestle the man into the position he’d planned. With the ankles secured and wrists finally tied behind the back, Owen efficiently threaded the ropes down through the footboard and up through the headboard of the bed. Snagging what looked like a dirty sock from the floor, Owen balled it up and stuffed it into Warrant’s mouth. Owen shook a chem light and snapped the plastic tube, mixing the ingredients to emit a steady but dim light. With that illumination, he found the man’s shirt hanging from the footboard and cut a strip of fabric, tying it in place around Warrant’s lower face. Pre-cut strips of tape finished the layered gag, until Owen was satisfied with his handiwork.

  Leaving his mask in place, he made his way around the bed to where the little girl lay on top of the covers. Her hands were knotted together, a strip of leather wrapped tightly around her wrists and secured through a loop in her collar to the leg of the bed. The placement meant she was bent awkwardly, scarcely able to change position at all. He pulled the blade from the sheath and severed the leather strap inches above her wrists. Working quickly, he unwrapped the bindings from around her limbs, carefully chafing the skin to stimulate circulation.

  Owen realized Shiloh was awake, her eyes glittering in the low light. Like Kelly, she kept her chin down, masking her awareness. I don’t want her to associate me with this hellish place. Owen raised his voice an octave, disguising himself as he told her soothingly, “Getting you out of here.” She shook her head, gaze cutting over to where Warrant was beginning to stir. Without looking, Owen reached out and reapplied the blood choke hold, stilling the movements within seconds. In no time, Warrant was effectively knocked out with the induced syncope, and Owen had the use of both hands again.

  The broad collar was next on his agenda, and Owen felt along the edges of the leather, quickly finding the overlapping area held in place with a tiny lock. The blade would be best for this, but the idea of bringing a blade that close to Shiloh and scaring her any more than she already had to be was abhorrent. Owen cast around quickly, his attention falling on the man’s discarded pants. Surely it can’t be that easy. There was a keyring in one pocket, one for the truck, one he assumed was for the man’s home, and a jingling-jangling clump of keys each tiny enough to match the lock. The fourth one he fit to the lock turned easily, and the shackle clicked open.

  Sight of the rough, reddened skin underneath the collar
turned his stomach, as did the raised burn marks from the electric prods the man had used to keep the girl inside his little torture compound. Shiloh stared at him, at the mask keeping her from seeing him, his big hands cupping each side of her little neck, and she had no fear in her gaze. Totally like her brother. She’s tough as shit.

  Owen swept her up in his arms and walked to the front door, edging it open with his hip. Kelly stood in the yard near the truck, a large boy angled in front of him, fists drawn up to shoulder height. Kelly was talking, explaining the things Owen had authorized when he caught sight of Shiloh. The little girl scrambled, hands shoving at Owen in an effort not to escape, but simply to get on the ground. He set her down feet-first, and the moment she connected with the dirt, the little girl pelted towards Kelly, who was headed her way at a quick trot. Kelly looked at Owen over the girl’s head as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The stare held for only a breath before Kelly turned her towards the road and the woods beyond.

  Standing there watching as the little boy who’d had to be far too grown-up escorted his littler sister to safety, Owen took in a deep breath, the first since walking away from the car. Once beyond the dirt line where the fence was buried, the two kids paused, flashes of light color telling him Kelly was putting the clothing on Shiloh, making the rest of the walk more comfortable at least. Then they were gone, beyond where the scarce light could reach, following the lifeline of the road to the sanctuary of the car, and eventually to the freedom Owen had promised.

  The boy who’d been talking to Kelly had turned and was staring at Owen. He took a halting step towards the porch, then teetered to a stop. “You gonna kill him?” Deeper than he’d expected, the voice held an edge of anger, and a hatred Owen experienced a strange kinship with. Owen nodded slowly, glad he’d retained the mask. The boy’s chest expanded and held, then he exhaled on a rush. “Good. Kill him slow.”

  “Kid, what’s your name?” Owen studied him, sheer physical size testifying the boy verged on the edge of adolescent, certain in his gut the kid wouldn’t have lived another month in Warrant’s care.

  “Terrence.” He backed up a step and his legs folded underneath him, depositing his body into a loose-limbed sitting position. “We aren’t supposed to have names, but mine is Terrence.”

  “Terrence.” He gave the boy that affirmation, not missing the downward jerk of his chin that spoke so eloquently of the pain the dehumanization had left behind. “After I leave, the police will come. They’ll bring people to take care of you. Of all the kids.”

  “Not Kelly or Shiloh, though.” Owen stared at him, then shook his head side to side in a slow arc. “Good. They deserve better. Far as I’m concerned, they were never here.” Standing straight, Owen marveled at this boy’s quick grasp of what he’d been asking for. “And neither were you.”

  A loud thump came from inside the cabin, and Owen was reminded that he was on a time constraint. “Thanks.” Terrence slumped to the ground, curling himself into a ball. Owen shucked his jacket and swung the backpack off one shoulder, bringing it around to his chest so he could more easily dig through it. “I’ve got clothing for you and the other kids. Shirts and shorts, some socks. No shoes, those were too hard to transport.” He held the packages out as he made his way down the short steps, crouching down well away from where Terrence lay. “When I’m gone, you and the other kids should stay out of the cabin.” He ripped open a pack of shirts and gathered the hem of one in his hands. He leaned far over and tugged it down over Terrence’s head, smoothing it into place as the boy struggled to get his arms through the sleeves. “It’s not much, but it means you won’t face the police naked.”

  “Kelly and Shiloh are lucky.” Owen shook his head, dismissing the statement as he opened the shorts and socks and handed Terrence the additional clothing. “Yeah, they are.” Terrence accepted the fabric, cradling it to his chest. “That”—he indicated the mask—“might be scary, but you’re a good man underneath.”

  No, I’m not. Owen couldn’t say as much to the boy, couldn’t risk any kind of confession, so he chose to say nothing. With the remaining clothing selections piled around Terrence’s feet, Owen stood and took a step back, slipping into his jacket. “Don’t go into the cabin. Promise me.”

  “Oh, I can promise that. None of us want to be inside there. Nothing good ever happened there.”

  Inside the cabin, he found Warrant had worked his way halfway off the bed, arms and legs twisted painfully in their restraints as the knots tying him to the bedframe held tightly. From the position of the ball joint of one shoulder, Owen thought the man had probably dislocated it. The streaming tears and snot-filled nose gave weight to his suspicions. This wasn’t just a panic reaction. This was real pain. About fuckin’ time. He could see it was getting harder for Warrant to breathe, the gag not providing any leeway for acquiring additional air. “You need to control yourself or you’re going to die from suffocation.” As the tissues in Warrant’s nostrils swelled, even less air made its way through, and it was only a couple of minutes before Warrant hung limp in his bonds. “You’ve effectively choked yourself out.” He realized all he had to do was stand there, and Warrant would be dead within minutes. No dramatic speech, no flourish with the blade or gun, nothing to serve as notice that anything of note had happened here. Maybe that’s the better way for this trash. Without calling attention to himself via the death, this could almost appear to be a gone-wrong death. Watch and learn, grasshopper.

  Hands clasped behind his back, Owen prepared to stand sentinel on the death of Earl Warrant, witnessing the ignominious snuffing out of a life. It would happen without fanfare, and the moment when the man failed to take in another breath would be nearly anticlimactic.

  Warrant’s chest lifted with a heave, his body sucking in another lungful of air. Owen glanced at the covers strewn across the bed, gaze catching and holding on the smears of blood marking where Shiloh had lain. He’d ignored that while tending to her and getting her out of the cabin, leaving the challenges of dealing with what was pretty obviously a physical violation of her tiny body for later.

  Warrant took in another stuttering breath, shoulders and chest hitching with the effort.

  From the corner of Owen’s eye, that evidence of Shiloh’s abuse glared at him like a neon sign.

  Owen could easily wait it out. Death wouldn’t be long now.

  He narrowed his eyes. Looked at the stain again. Remembered the fearlessness in the girl’s face as she let him help her. Saw again the expression Kelly had as he held his sister close.

  Looked at the stain again.

  Where’s the fun in that?

  Bending at the waist, he tugged the knife he’d used a couple of times tonight from the sheath, idly flipping it end over end, the handle smacking the center of his palm each time. He needs to pay. Pain and blood. It would be the only way Owen would be able to sleep at night.

  He stepped forwards, bringing the knife downwards with force, burying it into the man’s meaty thigh with a thud. The tiny vibration against his palm stung slightly, and he shook his hand. With the blade safely stowed for transport, Owen lifted the body back to the bed and then removed the gag, staring down as Warrant’s skin slowly turned from gray to pink as his lungs and heart worked overtime to save him. He’ll die the same. Owen shook his head. But if I can look at Kelly and tell him his little sister’s attacker died slowly, it’ll mean more if it was at my hands. For all he’d shied from showing Shiloh that side of him, Owen knew Kelly well understood the monster inside.

  When Warrant’s eyes blinked open, Owen was there, bent close. One palm caressing the handle of the knife, he wiggled it side to side in a slow dance of steel against bone, the scraping tremors signaling each painful contact. “You’re dying today.” Warrant stared up past the edge of Owen’s hand, clamped tightly over his mouth and nose. “Evil, vile man. Imagine if your own children were in this bed next to you, watchin’ daddy suck up his last breaths.” The man strained against the bonds ho
lding him to the bed. “It’ll be my pleasure to end you. I found you, tracked you, and now I get to deal with you. You and your sick buddies.” Warrant’s gaze flickered. It was only a millisecond of movement, a sideways tick when Owen mentioned his buddies, but the tell was seen and cataloged. “Gonna fuck you up so bad, your pretty wife won’t be able to look at a picture of you without imaging your face like I’ll leave it.” No reaction. Interesting. “Your buddies won’t miss you. No more perversion for them.” Another tiny jerk towards the side and Owen deliberately turned his head, following the man’s line of sight to a picture on the wall.

  Shoving the sodden sock back into Warrant’s mouth, Owen casually strolled around the bed, ignoring the muffled grunts behind him. He approached the picture, an innocuous pastoral scene completely out of place in the rough cabin, and ran a finger along the frame. The noises increased in volume, and he grinned, seeing only the flat features of the pale mask reflected in the glass covering the picture. A light tug revealed one side of the frame was attached to the wall, and Owen swung the entire unit out, allowing it to pivot on hidden hinges. Recessed shelves appeared, hidden by the picture. On the shelves was a camera with a Wi-Fi connection blinking green.

  “You tape that shit you did to that little girl?” A signal booster lay on the shelf next to the camera. Owen examined the back of the picture, finding a hole masked by a see-through screen. “Stream that shit? Broadcast it for your pedo buddies? They pay by the gig?” He glanced back at Warrant, taking in the man’s panicked expression. More terrifying than the threat of death, whatever this represented was occupying all of Warrant’s mental space right now. “They still watchin’?” He swiveled to face the camera. “You watchin’ right now?” He laughed, letting the dark, deep sound roll out of him. “Content warning. This pedo rape porn is about to become a slasher snuff film.”