Lucky Thirteen (The Raiford Chronicles Book 1)

by Janet Taylor-Perry

  Larkin’s heart sank. They’re waiting for me. A small sob caught in her throat.

  Ray was so shocked by the sight he could hardly have a coherent thought and could not find a way to comfort Larkin except to pull her closer to his heart. Scanning the robed women, he muttered, “Fuck. I know one of them.”

  “Place her on the altar, Ray, with her head toward the door,” Latrice commanded. “Then, you wait downstairs until I call for you.”

  “I’ll stay,” Ray said. “You promised to make the voices stop. I have to stay.” He kept his face averted from the women as best he could.

  Latrice shot him a peeved look. Somehow, she realized an argument would be futile. What kind of voice is this fool hearing? Her mother’s warning not to use him came back to her, but it was too late. “Very well, stand toward the back. Don’t say a word.”

  He gingerly laid Larkin on the icy marble slab, keeping his head down, and shuffled toward the back. Ray was sure he heard a slight gasp from one of the women. His insides felt tied in knots. He stole a glance toward where Chris was supposed to be. There you are, so well hidden I almost didn’t see you. A glimpse of his partner calmed his nerves.

  Lying like a sacrificial lamb upon the altar, Larkin tried to lift her arms, but they felt like lead. A glance up toward the suspended goat’s head, made her stomach churn. She rolled her head to see Ray. He stood with a hand behind his back. Knowing that hand was on his gun, flooded her with relief.

  As midnight approached, the women made a semi-circle on one side of the altar while Latrice stood with her back to Ray. The ceremony began with Latrice sipping something from the ebony goblet and passing it to the left. Each woman drank until the cup got back to Latrice. The women began a low, rhythmic chant, “Adveho, meus dominus, adveho.” (“Come, my lord, come.”) From the folds of her robe, Latrice retrieved a handful of dried flower petals and sprinkled them over Larkin’s torso at the same time saying something Ray recognized as Latin.

  Once Latrice began to speak, the temperature plummeted. Ray saw his breath. He cut his eyes toward Chris and saw she had pulled her black spandex sweater over her mouth and nose. She feels the chill too.

  A rumble beneath his feet brought Ray’s eyes to the floor and back up toward the ritual being performed. The air around the women visibly moved. Ray jerked his head upward at a flapping sound, as of large wings thumping.

  ♣♣♣

  Larkin’s eyes darted about as she heard the same sounds and felt the vibrations through the stone. Even though she was helpless, she understood much of what Latrice said as she recalled her high school Latin. Expio quod restituo ordo, vitualamen para virgo. Cruor of tredecim mos pario Gremory protelo quod debello chaos. (“To purify and restore order, the sacrifice of a virgin. The blood of the thirteenth will bring forth Gremory to lead and vanquish chaos.”)

  Larkin’s mind raced. Gremory? Is that an actual demon? Lucifer can’t be the only fallen angel with a name. Angels have names. Do these nuts think sacrificing a virgin will summon a demon? They’re calling for one to come. I feel spirits here, moving.

  The women’s chant reached a crescendo. Latrice raised the dagger above her head as she spoke, louder and louder, repeating the phrase six times. At that moment, Ray heard only one word, Larkin’s almost inaudible, “Ray?”

  ♣♣♣

  Ray pulled his nine millimeter. “Drop the dagger and turn around, you psychotic bitch,” he demanded. Silence fell. The temperature returned to normal.

  “You idiot!” Latrice snarled through gritted teeth. “You interrupted the ritual! He was almost here!”

  The other women began to murmur and move a bit. One whimpered, “Latrice, what’s happening?”

  Another voiced concern. “You said this was legal.”

  A young girl began to cry. “I’m scared.”

  The woman Ray recognized mumbled, “Damn it! Reynolds!”

  Ray repeated, “Drop the dagger and turn around. The rest of you don’t move a muscle. Mikayla, shut the fuck up. Latrice, I said, ‘Drop it!’ Or, I can shoot you where you stand.”

  Latrice slowly lowered the dagger. She turned around. Ray had advanced to just out of her reach. “Who are you?” she said in utter bewilderment. “You’re not Ray.”

  “That’s not quite true,” said another voice as Raif stepped from the shadows along with Chris, Baker, and the three FBI agents, all with their weapons drawn.

  “What the?” was all Latrice managed.

  “Feel a little confused?” asked Raif sarcastically. “So did I, until a Providential God used you of all people to bring Larkin into my life. Let me introduce myself. Raiford Gautier, architect, and a man with a condition which requires medication that you, a health professional, deliberately kept from me in an attempt to control me. You failed. The voices of reason and righteousness are much stronger than your insane wickedness.” He looked around him. “I have no clue what I just witnessed, but it was pure evil.”

  Latrice looked from one twin to the other.

  “Who’s the ragamuffin?” Raif jerked his head toward his brother. “Another blessing that came out of this. I really think you should officially meet him though you’ve already dealt with him. No, that was not I at our last meeting. This, Latrice, is my twin brother, Raiford—yes—Raiford—Raiford Reynolds—Detective Raiford Reynolds.” His voice increased in intensity with each repetition of their name, but he never shouted. Contrarily, the intensity was accentuated by a lowering of volume.

  “And now, I think you’re under arrest.” Raif looked her squarely in the eye. “I’m sure you’ll be charged with twenty-four counts of murder, thirteen counts of kidnapping, thirteen counts of conspiracy to kidnap, and what? One count of reckless endangerment? God only knows what else. Now, Ray, may I, please, say it?”

  “You know it, Raif.”

  “Cuff all the...” He paused to find the right word. “Ladies,” he finished with reluctance and disdain. “And be sure to read them their rights. We don’t want them to slip by on a technicality. Oh, Latrice, it is Halloween, but your costume is lacking. You have the black robe and a miniature sickle, but where’s the skeleton mask?”

  She stared daggers at Raif as Lawrence Dantzler roughly placed handcuffs on her wrists.

  “Yes, Latrice, look at me.” Raif took a step closer to the woman who would have killed him. “Look me in the eye so I can proudly say, ‘I looked death in the eye. And I won.’”

  24

  Homecoming

  While Latrice was unceremoniously shoved into the back of a squad car and the other twelve women were herded into two police vans, Ray helped Larkin stand and held onto her protectively. “Can you stand? Do I need to carry you? An ambulance is on the way to take you to the hospital.’

  “I don’t want to go to the hoshpital,” she argued in a weak voice. “I jusht want to go home.”

  “And home you’ll go as soon as a doctor pronounces you fit.”

  “I’m fine. You and Raif have taken very good care of me. I’ve probably gained ten poundsh from all the food and no exerchishe. Pleashe, take me home.”

  “Larkin, that nut job injected you with something. Listen to yourself. You’re slurring your words. Let’s get you checked out. Then, I will personally take you home. Humor me. After all, I’m the reason you let yourself get put in this situation.”

  Brian Baker jerked Mikayla Pickett past his former partner to get her into the police van. The woman balked beside the twins. “Two of you?” She laughed. “Latrice thought not to use Geminis, but you’re actual twins. Who knew?”

  Ray glared at the woman who worked for the mayor. “Baker, get her out of my sight.”

  “Gladly.”

  Ray signaled to Patrick Swift to check out the open panel. The FBI agent took the two patrolmen who had been watching the monastery with him through the opening.

  Ray turned to Chris, “Will you take care of Raif? Get him home, and I’ll be by later.”

  “Not a problem.”

/>   Ray looked at his brother. “Fooyay! What were you thinking? You put yourself in a dangerous position. It’s bad enough you were even here. Don’t ever do something like that again.”

  “Sorry, bro, but I had to unload on that crazy bat, or I would’ve exploded.”

  “Well, I hope it was cathartic. I have to say it felt good hearing you put her in her place. Now, go home.” He jerked his head toward the exit. “I’ll come by later.”

  “By the time you get there, it’ll be time for breakfast,” Raif joked. “Bring something delectable.”

  “You know it.”

  With a gentle push on his shoulder and a stern look, Chris prodded Raif out the door to her waiting car, and Ray insisted Larkin go to the hospital.

  ♣♣♣

  Raif unlocked the door to his townhouse about one thirty in the morning. He stopped in the middle of the living room and breathed deeply. “God! It feels good to be home.”

  Chris said nothing for a moment. She just looked around. “It’s very…um…manly. Neat, but manly,” she said.

  “Are you saying it needs a woman’s touch?”

  “It’s just so plain, so sparse.”

  “Leave it to a woman to want to clutter up with little doodads.” He laughed.

  “Knickknacks make it homier.”

  “I suppose my space is rather functional,” he admitted. “And needs a good cleaning. I barely had time to wash the dishes when I came by. This dust has to go.”

  “You apparently got rid of the rotted meat in the fridge.”

  “You went in my refrigerator?”

  She nodded.

  He walked around his home as Chris followed. “Where’s my computer?” he asked.

  “We took it. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. I promise.”

  “Please do. I'll function better with all my tools.”

  She inclined her head toward the drafting table. “I saw some of your work. Who are you designing that fabulous house for?”

  “The love of my life,” Raif replied.

  “And who is that?”

  “I don’t know, but that house will be my wedding gift to my wife. I have forty acres to build on about twenty miles out into the boonies toward the old train trestle.”

  “Wow! That’ll be one lucky lady. She’ll get the house and you.”

  With a slight frown he said, “That last part might make the house just a drawing.”

  “Na. You still have to see a neurologist. Remember?”

  Raif nodded. “You promised to hold my hand.”

  “Indeed, I did.”

  He yawned behind his hand. “Well, Chris, would it be possible to consider all this after a good night’s sleep in my own bed?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll leave you for my wonderful hotel.”

  “You can stay.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Unaffected, Raif explained, “I have a lot of things in common with my brother. The sofa is a sleeper. Stay and eat breakfast with Ray and me. I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around. Don’t cut the apron strings just yet.”

  “All right,” agreed Chris. “Let’s get some rest. Maybe we’ll actually sleep tonight.”

  As Raif and Chris made up the sleeper, he thought, I’d rather have you beside me, but I’m scared of offending you. You think I have walls? You are a goddess if only you’d lower yours. No—you remain the consummate professional, even in your attire. He sighed, but said not a word. Raif slept alone and dreamed about Chris beside him.

  ♣♣♣

  Meanwhile in the emergency room at the hospital, the attending physician drew Larkin’s blood and checked her from head to foot while Ray waited patiently. Finally, she was pronounced quite fit despite a massive, unwanted dose of valium. The doctor scowled though. “You say she pushed this directly into your vein?”

  Larkin nodded.

  “You’re one lucky lady. If she had gone too fast, your heart would have stopped. The best thing you can do is go home and sleep it off.”

  She looked at Ray with an impish, sideways grin. “May I pleashe go home now?”

  “After a quick stop at my place.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’s something there I think you might want,” he said

  “Shyclopsh!” She brightened as she remembered Ray had her cat.

  “I’m gonna miss him,” admitted Ray. “But now he has become attached to my brother. That poor little guy won’t know what to do.”

  “He’sh a trooper,” she bragged. “He’ll know eshxactly what to do. He’ll come to hish momma. Uncle Ray can vishit.”

  They had very little conversation in the car. Larkin leaned her head against the window and dozed. Once they got to Ray’s apartment, the two were greeted with enthusiastic meowing, and just as Larkin had predicted, Cyclops leapt straight into her arms.

  “Let’s go home,” she said rubbing her cheek against his head. “I want to sleep in my own bed.” She yawned drowsily and held Cyclops closer.

  “Hey, I understood what you said there.” Ray grabbed the cat’s food, and the trip continued to Larkin’s house.

  ♣♣♣

  Larkin stood on her porch a minute in the pre-dawn. She took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and listened to the tinkling of her wind chimes as the gentle fall breeze blew them. “That helps clear my head,” she said. She inhaled the fragrance of the fall flowers. “Oh, it smells so clean and fresh. I thought I might never smell fresh air again.”

  Ray touched her shoulder after he unlocked her door. She stepped through. Inside her home, Larkin was suddenly overcome with tears as the tension of the last several weeks found release. Ray steered her to the sofa, put an arm around her, and offered comfort, letting her cry. “Now, now. It’s over. You’re home safe and sound.”

  Cyclops bumped his nose into Larkin’s cheek. She wiped her eyes as she sniffled. “I feel so silly.”

  “Nonsense,” snorted Ray. “You needed to let it all out. But now you’re safe in this wonderful old house.” He looked around. “You know, Raif could probably help with your restoration.”

  “That’s a good idea.” She nodded. “It’s on the historical register, so I’m limited in what I can change. I want to stay as original as possible though. The place housed captured Union spies before they were hanged. One was extremely interesting. His name was Baxter Pryor. After two failed attempts to hang him, the people around here thought he had some kind of magical powers, and he was kept prisoner here until the war was over.”

  “Fascinating. Did he have magical powers?”

  She shrugged. “After what we witnessed tonight, I don’t know.”

  “Do you tell your students these things?”

  “Sometimes. I’m sure they’ll have a thousand questions on Monday.”

  “You’re going back so soon?”

  “Absolutely.” Her voice was soft but determined. “I’m sure you’ll be at your desk tomorrow.”

  “Yes, but I have loads of paper work to do to make sure that lunatic doesn’t get off on some technicality. I really should get going. I need some sleep, too.”

  Her mouth dry, her throat tight, Larkin hesitantly asked, “Ray…do you think you could stay here tonight?”

  “I think it would be better if I called Chris to come and stay with you.”

  “Why?” she said, suddenly affronted.

  “It’s just not ethical for me to be this close to you.”

  “Ethical?” Larkin said shrilly. “Is this because you kissed me?”

  “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

  She pushed herself from Ray and glowered at him. “Do you regret it?”

  “Larkin, please.” He patted her arm. “You have to understand my position.”

  “Oh, I do!” She stood, walked to the door, and opened it. “You hide behind that stone wall of ethical conduct.” Her legs wobbly, she grasped the doorknob to steady herself. “Out! Go home! See how much comfort and love your ethics can give you. Maybe you should h
ire a hooker.”

  “Larkin!” Ray said as he stopped in the doorway.

  She shoved him out the door, slammed the heavy wood in his face, and turned the deadbolt hard enough to wrench her wrist. A loud, “Meow!” that sounded like scolding brought her attention to her feet.

  She picked up Cyclops and cradled him in her arms. “Come on, buddy. I know I can count on you.”

  Larkin headed to her bed but sank onto the stairs, head spinning. Staring at the door, she chastised herself for ever being tempted by Ray’s presence. She buried her face in Cyclops’s fur and wept, emotions in complete disarray. In addition to captivity and valium, it was time for her cycle, and the added stress just made her feel worse. “What should I do?” she sobbed.

  On the other side of the door, Ray’s fingertips touched the wood lightly before he sighed, got in his car, and drove away.

  25

  The Accused

  After only a couple hours sleep, Ray was awakened by his phone ringing. “Reynolds,” he answered sluggishly.

  “My office, thirty minutes.” The mayor’s voice made the detective bolt from his bed.

  “Oh, on my way, sir.” Oh, shit. There goes my job.

  Ray walked into the mayor’s office to find Chief Gerard waiting also. His stomach was in knots.

  “Sit,” said the mayor sternly.

  Ray sat in the chair beside the chief of police and began, “Let me explain.”

  “Explain what, Detective?” the mayor demanded. “That you had my full knowledge and approval for an unorthodox undercover operation?” An age-spotted hand slid a folder across his desk. “Open it and sign, but if anyone ever finds out you did this bullshit without proper authorization, I’ll bury you.”

  Ray read over the documents quickly. He looked from the chief to the mayor. The chief looked away and grunted, “I can’t believe you didn’t trust me enough to give me details. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve objected, but you would’ve convinced me.” The chief’s eye twitched as he looked at his detective.