by Dani Amore
She opened her eyes.
At first, she had the strange idea she was in a church. Because there was an altar. Candles. And a few church benches.
But if it was a church, why was it underground?
Bird rolled onto her back.
It was a stone ceiling.
She wasn’t in a church.
She was in a dungeon.
And she had a vague idea of what the altar was for.
Because above the altar, on the stone ceiling, something was crudely painted with thick black lines.
A pentagram.
Bird closed her eyes.
Stupid, she thought. She should have known the girl was too good to be true. Bird had imagined some kind of connection because she’d wanted it to be true. She had refused to recognize the warning signs because she’d let her thirst for revenge override her common sense.
And now she was going to pay for it.
Bird tested the strength of the handcuffs.
Nothing doing there. And since she’d been unconscious when they’d been put on, she hadn’t been able to try to manipulate how tightly they were fastened.
Bird pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked around the room. It was a big space, only occupied by the altar, candles, and benches.
And her.
A metal pipe with a metal ring had been driven into the stone wall, and Bird saw the chain that ran from her restraints to the ring. She stood and tried to pull the ring from the wall.
That wouldn’t work.
Bird stood there, refusing to believe there wasn’t some way to get out of this situation.
She ground her teeth together.
It wasn’t just that Toby Raines had gotten her.
No, it was that he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Bird looked up as the girl who had called herself Rebecca Britt walked into the room, carrying a match and glass of wine. She struck the match and lit a few more candles on the altar.
“You’re not Karen’s cousin, are you?” Bird said. Her tongue felt thick. Her voice echoed around the room, making her sound like a ghost.
Bird’s head ached, from both the blow to the back of her skull and the effects of all that liquor she had drunk. Even the good stuff could make you feel like you’d been run over by a train.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” the girl said.
Bird laughed.
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” she said. “I think I have it figured out. Someone saw me talking to the police officer about Karen. Maybe you have a spy at the station? Anyway, you found out and followed me with the plan to lure me to that building.”
The girl set the glass of wine on the altar next to the candles. She gave the presentation an appraising glance, then smiled at Bird.
“It’s rude to drink and not offer one to your guest,” Bird said.
The girl smiled and turned toward the door.
“I absolutely can’t wait to celebrate the new year,” the girl said. “We’ve got some big plans. All of them having to do with you.”
She walked to the door.
“The life of the party, that’s me,” Bird called out to her.
The door closed with a thunk.
“Shit,” Bird said.
One Hundred Three
Tower was back in Silas’s office.
“What did you receive from Saint Louis about me?” he said to Silas.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want to see everything you received about me, about the circuit ride, about Bird Hitchcock. It’s very important.”
Silas went to a wooden file cabinet and pulled out an envelope.
“All right, yes, I have kept everything in one place, just in case. This is what was sent to me from Father Johnstone in Saint Louis, the man who initially assigned you.”
Tower opened the envelope, took out the documents, and set them on the table. He began to skim them, looking for something that he knew had to be there. It had to be there.
He flipped through his original application to the church, other forms noting his entry into the organization. There was a list of circuit riders with their routes and dates, as well as a copy of Bird’s contract.
That’s where Tower stopped.
He looked through the rest of the envelope, but there was nothing. He went back to the stack of documents, the one preceding Bird’s contract.
There.
A single sheet of paper that had been clipped to the back of the circuit riders’ schedules.
It was a short note written to Father Johnstone by a Superintendent Powell.
It read:
As far as Mr. Tower’s security is concerned, I would recommend the highly capable Bird Hitchcock, who I have on good authority is currently located in the jail of the first town along Mr. Tower’s route. It is my belief that she would be more than willing to take on this job as I believe her finances are in dire straits.
Tower looked up at Silas.
“Do you know who this Superintendent Powell is?”
“Sure, I do. He’s a traveling superintendent for the church.”
“Is he a priest?” Tower said.
“I believe he is, or was, but his duties with the church now are strictly financial.”
It was starting to fall together for Tower now. How it had happened. And why Bird seemed to despise religion.
Tower looked up and saw a curious expression on Silas’s face.
“What is it?” Tower said.
Silas seemed confused.
“It just seems so odd, you asking about Superintendent Powell after claiming I organized the New Divinities retreats.”
“Why is that so odd?”
“Because Powell is in charge of the retreats. He’s probably the man you’re looking for.”
One Hundred Four
Tower quickly entered his room at the rectory.
His bedroll was stashed beneath his bed. He lifted it up and unrolled it on his bed.
His pistol was there, still in its holster. For years, he had lived with it, practiced with it, shot it every day. And then he’d put it away.
At the time, he had figured he was putting it away forever.
But now it was time to bring it back out.
Because he had no proof. He couldn’t go to the police and make some vague accusations about a man named Superintendent Powell whose real name was Toby Raines. And that this strange man Tower had never really met was most likely preying on young woman under the pretense of religious retreats.
Tower felt a tearing in his soul. He couldn’t help but think of Bird. Had she gone on one of those retreats years back? When Toby Raines was still perfecting his scheme? Had she been one of his first victims? Is that what had turned her into an alcoholic cynic?
It angered him, churned a cold fury in his belly.
He knew now Bird was in a great deal of danger.
He put the gun belt around his waist, thumbed shells into the bullet loops, and loaded the gun. It felt good to be back on, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. No, he wasn’t going to lie to himself anymore. Ever.
He put the loaded gun back into the hostler, then left the room and hurried down to the street.
Although the mysterious Superintendent Powell had no permanent address, Silas had heard that he was staying at a small church just off of Market Square. A guest of the church.
Tower walked quickly toward the destination, fighting through the crush of people on the street who were also making their way to the square for the New Year’s Eve celebration.
Tower could only hope that he wouldn’t be late.
One Hundred Five
Bird had settled her back against the stone wall, watching the candles flicker in the center of the room.
The door opened.
It was Toby Raines.
Bird recognized the lean face, the thin, cruel mouth, the crazy eyes.
He was dressed in a black robe, but Bird knew he would have two gu
ns tied down beneath it.
“It’s good to be with you again, Bird,” he said.
“Go to hell,” she answered.
Toby Raines laughed.
“Oh, I’m sure I will. But you will precede me. After all, ladies first.”
Bird glanced behind him at the altar.
“What is all this shit?” she said.
He smiled at her.
“This is all a comedy, Bird.”
“Yes, it’s hilarious,” she said.
“I wear this black robe, have this little room, just so young girls can join me here and become indoctrinated into the world of black magic.”
He laughed out loud.
“It was all a joke to you, always,” Bird said.
“Ah, so you do remember,” Raines said. “Yes, I use the lure of a religious retreat, then find the ones with the dark streak that only I can see. There’s always one in every group. They’re the ones that get told about this place.”
Bird didn’t respond.
“You had the darkest streak of them all,” he said. “But I was just getting started with you back then. Now I get to finish the job properly.”
“Shouldn’t a condemned woman get at least a drink?” Bird said.
Raines went to the altar, grabbed a glass of wine, and brought it back, but he stopped far enough from Bird so she couldn’t reach him.
“The retreats are a great pipeline. You see, if I can get pretty young things like Rebecca to come here on their own free will, it makes things easier.”
He gestured toward the wall. “Back up.”
She moved farther back and he set the glass down, then moved back out of range.
Bird went and picked up the glass. She drained it all at once.
Bird looked up at Toby Raines. She had never wanted to kill anyone so badly in her life.
“You know what’s an even bigger joke?” he said. “How would you feel if I told you that I hired you to go on Mike Tower’s circuit ride?”
Raines burst out laughing, nearly doubling over with amusement.
The hate was blossoming inside Bird, blossoming into something even colder and harder.
“You know why?” he said. “Because I had to leave Saint Louis and come to San Francisco. A few families complained about missing girls, so when I heard the church was sending a circuit rider along the same route, I managed to get you hired. Again, do you want to know why?”
Bird stared off into the distance.
“Because I was worried I would be bored! I needed someone to play with on the trip out here. And I remember from way back when, you were always so much fun to play with.”
Bird lunged at him, but the chains snapped her back and she felt something in her shoulder give.
Raines moved in closer to her.
“Bird, your year is going to end with a bang!” She didn’t see the blow coming in time, and it crashed into her jaw. Fireworks exploded, and then she saw black.
One Hundred Six
Bird was cold.
She opened her eyes and saw the pentagram directly above her.
She was on the altar.
Her arms and legs were spread wide.
She was naked.
Toby Raines’s face loomed over her.
A knife appeared in front of her eyes.
From above them, she could hear explosions and knew it was midnight, the new year. People were celebrating outside.
“I’ve waited a long time to finish this job, Bird,” Toby Raines said.
To her left, Bird saw the girl. She had her eyes closed and was swaying to music that only she could hear.
The knife tip went into the center of Bird’s chest. She felt the sharp stab of pain and knew that Toby Raines had placed the tip of the knife in the exact center of the pentagram that he had carved there.
“I was really sloppy back then,” he said. “Look at this thing. I would be embarrassed if anyone knew I had carved such a shameful image. Really low level of craftsmanship, I must say. My God, imagine how you must feel having to carry it around with you everywhere!”
He laughed again. She saw him drink from the big bottle of wine. Was he drunk? His dark eyes glittered. His face, lean and sharp, reminded her of a starving coyote she had seen once, sick with infection in the middle of winter. She had killed that coyote.
She wished she had her gun.
Raines put the knife into the flame of the candle. The girl’s eyes opened, and she smiled at Toby Raines.
“What a way to start the new year,” he said. He raised the knife above her —
And then the door slammed open.
Bird turned her head and could see, at an angle, Mike Tower.
“No!” Bird yelled, trying to warn him that he didn’t stand a chance against Toby Raines.
From the corner of her eye, Bird saw Raines throw the black robe from his body to reveal two guns. His hands were flashing toward the pistols with speed and confidence.
Bird’s eyes were still on Mike Tower, and she saw him draw in one smooth motion. And then he was firing, fanning the gun with no wasted motion. A gunshot boomed from next to her ear, but Bird could make out Toby Raines, doubled over, his gun pointed at the ground.
She watched as Tower swung the gun, and for a moment Bird thought he was going to shoot her. She heard the bullets whistle past her head, the sound of lead smacking flesh.
There was no return fire.
Tower walked to Toby Raines. Bird heard him kick the gun across the floor. Tower went to where the girl must have been.
“Thank God,” he said.
Then he was next to Bird.
She looked up at him.
“She had a gun,” Tower said. “She tried to shoot me.”
Bird nodded.
“Never thought I’d say this to a preacher, but nice shooting,” she said.
Tower picked up the black robe and covered Bird with it. He found the keys in Toby Raines’s pocket and unlocked her restraints.
She looked down at Toby Raines. Tower’s bullets had ripped apart his chest and blown away half of his head. All of these years, she thought. And here he was, finally. Dead.
Bird had a sudden urge to find a knife and carve a pentagram into his chest, but the urge passed as quickly as it had come.
She felt nothing at all until Tower’s arm went around her shoulders.
“Let’s go get drunk,” Tower said.
One Hundred Seven
Silas met them the next day in the lobby of the Palace Hotel. Tower had decided to spring for one night at the expensive place, and he and Bird had gotten drunk together.
A waiter brought a pot of coffee to the table, and Silas nodded to him.
Bird sat down, looking fresh and energetic. Tower felt like he’d been run over by a stagecoach. But he was alive. And happy. He caught Bird looking at him.
She winked at him.
“I have good news and bad news,” Silas said.
“Let’s start with the bad,” Tower said. He poured himself a cup of coffee and drank deeply. He was going to need a lot of it this morning. “That way, we can end on some good.”
“Okay,” Silas said, letting out a long sigh. “The church has determined that because of the men you killed, as justified as it was, the attention it has brought makes them feel like it would be inappropriate to give you a congregation at this point.”
Tower nodded. He’d had a feeling this was coming. And honestly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about things, anyway. He felt good about putting a stop to Toby Raines’s madness. And the girl would survive.
“The good news?” Bird said. She pulled out a flask and splashed some amber liquid into her coffee. She held it up toward Tower, with a questioning eyebrow. Tower shook his head.
The gesture made Bird laugh. Tower realized it was a rare sight, and he was struck by what a beautiful woman Bird Hitchcock was.
“The good news is that they were very impressed with your investigative skills,” Silas said to Tower.
“And your skill at protection,” he said to Bird. “You two make a very formidable team.”
“I appreciate that,” Tower said.
“So much so that I have something to offer you,” Silas continued. “You see, the church is often approached by individuals who have volatile situations in which they do not wish to include the police. In some cases, we try to help them.”
He laid down a thick envelope on the table between the three of them.
“What the hell is that?” Bird said.
“This,” Silas said, tapping the front of the envelope, “is your next case.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank everyone at Thomas & Mercer and Amazon Publishing for making this serial novel a reality. Specifically I’d like to thank Courtney Miller, Shawn Deyell, Jacque Ben-Zekry and Andy Bartlett.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photograph by Annabel Ames
Born in the suburbs of Milwaukee to a teacher and a poet, Dani Amore studied journalism at the University of Wisconsin before launching a copywriting career in advertising. She is the bestselling author of several books, including The Killing League, Dead Wood, and Death by Sarcasm, which won the 2011 Independent Book Award for Crime Fiction.
This book was originally released in episodes as a Kindle Serial. Kindle Serials launched in 2012 as a new way to experience serialized books. Kindle Serials allow readers to enjoy the story as the author creates it, purchasing once and receiving all existing episodes immediately, followed by future episodes as they are published. To find out more about Kindle Serials and to see the current selection of Serials titles, visit www.amazon.com/kindleserials.
