by Maree Dry
“And where might you be going with Sister Julia?”
If she hadn’t had an encounter with the demon earlier and then with the nightmare from her past, she would’ve fainted, or broken out in a sweat, or maybe hyperventilated. But her body was all reacted out. She slowly turned and faced the reverend, vaguely aware of John doing the same.
She hated the way the reverend called her Sister Julia as if that made her part of his delusional flock and gave him some authority over her. She never came near him or his followers and had no excuse for being here.
She could pretend to have an assignation with John but the reverend would pounce on that as ungodly behavior.
She looked over at John who made grunting sounds low in his throat while he stared at the reverend. And she had the weirdest sensation he was having a conversation with some unknown person. Something tugged at her memory again, but the reverend moved and distracted her.
***
Zurian was about to kill the reverend and any of his men who even dared to look at his breeder when Zacar contacted him. He knew Zacar had a visual on them through the probes and Zurian had to resist showing him a palm without claws, a crude Zyrgin insult.
“Busy here.”
“The slaver carrying the message to the reverend is on his way there with many humans. Allow the reverend to take you and get the information,” Zacar ordered.
“If I allowed myself to be captured, I would appear weak to my breeder.”
“If you are captured together, you can protect her and she will be forced to depend on you. It will afford you time alone with your breeder as well.”
“I would still appear weak to her for allowing her to be captured.”
“She is human. They admire weakness,” Zacar said.
“My breeder would not admire weakness.”
“I spend many hours a day with a human woman. Your breeder would cling to you in such circumstances.”
Zurian liked the idea of her clinging to him. “If she despises me after this, you and I will cross swords.”
“Make them work for it but let them take you.”
“Anyone who touches her dies.”
“Understood,” Zacar said and went quiet.
Zurian showed him the palm without claws anyway.
***
John stopped with the grunting and turned toward the reverend with a casualness that Julia envied. He held her close to his side and she could feel his muscles tense, as if preparing to fight. She never thought a time would come when she’d allow John to hold her like this.
“I am taking her home,” John said.
He’d always had a deep voice that many women considered manly and attractive. Julia thought his word choices, especially regarding women, made it one of the ugliest sounds she’d ever heard. It was different now. No hint of fear and almost formal, it had a bass undertone that stroked her nerve endings in a strange, almost-caress.
She supposed he thought that, as enforcer to the largest mafia family in the country, he didn’t have reason to be afraid. If the reverend tried to sell him or kill him, Denver would send more enforcers. They’d take care of the reverend in ways the man couldn’t imagine. Still John had better watch his back.
“And to do this you both need to exit from a window?” The reverend made one of those grandiose movements with his arms that always reminded Julia of a plump bird trying to take flight. “Strange thing that. We have no record of her entering the house.” He smiled his smarmy smile. “As you know, I require all my guests to sign in.”
Julia’s knees knocked together. She could shoot and fight but they didn’t stand a chance against this many men. The two thugs behind the reverend smirked at her, reminding her of all the atrocities she’d seen five years ago.
“As you know, I do not sign in,” John said.
An ugly look flashed over the reverend’s face before he pulled it into that fake benevolence. “I thought there was something strange about you from the beginning.” He turned to Julia and John stepped in front of her.
“You do not look at her.”
Again she tried to identify why his voice comforted her when, for as long as she could remember, it had terrified her. “How gallant of you, John,” the reverend sneered.
“You will not look at my--at her.”
“I think for now you will both remain my guests. Boys, take them to a guest room,” the reverend said, still in that hearty voice she detested. He motioned to them with those bird-taking-off movements.
John moved, his head turning in a quick predatory motion, the kind that raptors made when they spotted prey. Just as she thought he would take them on, he grunted a few times, hesitated, and then pulled her even closer to him.
The thug lifted his pistol and grabbed her arm. “Move, you.”
John grabbed his wrist, in a movement so fast it blurred, and looked as if he’d stepped into him. The thug ended up on the ground, screaming and clutching his arm. The whole maneuver was done so effortlessly it looked as if the man accidentally broke his arm when he fell. Julia knew better.
“Whoa there, boy, look around you,” the reverend said with sickening smugness.
More men with guns surrounded them. Julia heard the reverend speak as if through a fog, her gaze glued to the pistol lying on the straggly lawn. It was bent in two. Could John have done that? How could John have done that?
John drew her close under his arm again and she shuddered, but she noticed the reverend’s thugs kept their distance. They motioned with their guns to the back door. “In there.”
“You have no right to detain us,” she said to the reverend.
Somehow, it was easier being brave while John held her. And that had to be the strangest thing in a truly strange day.
The reverend didn’t answer, simply turned his back on them and walked away. When he first came to town, he was a tall, fairly well-built man. She noticed now he was leaning to fat and his swagger was more of a waddle. A red haze covered her eyes. How dare he? He was nothing but a two-bit crook and she was--
“Do you know who this is?” she shouted after him. “Do you even realize what Denver will do to you if you harm him?”
The reverend turned back to her. “What would a sweet innocent thing like you know about the Denver Corporation, Julia Smith?” He stressed the Smith.
She couldn’t breathe. The reverend appeared as though in a hazy tunnel. Damn her own temper. How could she be stupid enough to mention anything about her family to him? Never before had she made such a mistake.
John’s arm tightened around her and she moved closer to his warm body. Never in a million years, would she have believed she would look for safety to the creep who used to whisper filth into her ear when her father and uncle weren’t around.
With one last smirk, the reverend walked away and the thugs prodded her and John on.
Her heart started to beat overtime. “They’re taking us to the basement.”
John calmly walked in the direction they pointed them and she wanted to hit him. If he could bend a pistol, he could fight his way free.
“We’ll be trapped,” she hissed softly.
Please let him have a plan to get them out of this mess. She’d worry about getting away from him later.
Even before the thugs opened the door, she smelled it. The stale, musty scent of human sweat and urine. She gagged when they grasped the iron handle and that decaying smell intensified, assaulting her nose. Miserable groans ghosted up to their ears from the gaping blackness the door had revealed.
Julia clutched at John’s hand. It was too large for her to hold comfortably, but she clung to what she could. His palm was rough, almost leathery. He helped her down the stone stairs, growling at any guard that came too close. The heat transferring from his skin to hers warmed and comforted her. They descended into a massive cellar that appeared endless. Misery hung thick in the air and a sense of hopelessness descended over her. Had she managed to elude her family all these years only to e
nd up like this?
“How is this possible?” she whispered, appalled that this awful place existed so close to her without her even knowing. “We suspected he took people from town but we never knew he kept them in his own basement.”
“The reverend immediately saw the possibilities of a house with a large cellar,” one of the thugs said.
Jackson, that was his name. Natalie had told her years ago that he’d been in the same class as her. He’d dropped out of school at fifteen and eventually found his niche in life as the reverend’s thug.
Small, dehumanizing cages, stacked one on top of the other, lined the wall in front of them. Inside, she saw painfully thin bodies crouched in inhuman poses. Achingly small bodies, sad and defeated, sat in some of the cages.
She swiped at the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You monsters, how can you sell children?”
“Lots of people pay extra for the young uns.” Jackson grabbed her arm and before she could react, he lay on the cement floor, screaming.
The others lifted their guns and she saw several old-fashioned machine guns among them. She stumbled into John. Real bullets scared her more than laser guns. Most lasers were set to render the victim unconscious. Machine guns didn’t have such settings.
“John, please, they’ll shoot you.”
John stopped but watched Jackson without blinking, obviously looking for an opportunity to kill him.
Jackson groaned and slowly got to his feet. An evil grin spread across his thick face. “Yeah, listen to the little lady.” He motioned to the slightly bigger cells than the stacked cages. “Get in there.” He spat blood on the floor. “You won’t be this strong after we starve you a few days. Then I’ll pay you a visit and you’ll be glad to be nice to me.”
John moved them forward but he turned his head and stared at Jackson with that predatory gaze.
“No,” Jackson motioned with a massive machine gun. “You get your own cell, big shot from Denver.” He swung the machine gun toward John and she saw his finger tremble on the trigger.
“It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”
She didn’t know why she tried to reassure John. He had to be the meanest person she knew, bar none. If Jackson shot him, she wouldn’t shed a tear. Except, it comforted her not to be here alone.
The reverend was truly ignorant of the people he dealt with in Denver. For locking up one of their enforcers, her family would destroy the reverend and every person in his group of worshipers. If they found out that she’d been captured and harmed in any way, they’d raze this town to the ground. It was ironic really. If they ever caught up with her, she would be lucky to be punished, and not killed, for leaving. But they always showed a united front to the outside world. So if they knew she was kept here, they would rescue her and kill anyone who dared to lock up a Benzoni. Then they’d kill her quietly and probably viciously.
John stared at Jackson for long fraught minutes and Julia half hoped he might try to fight his way out. She could run in the confusion. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved when he walked into the cell and turned. He looked on with scary intensity as they locked him in.
“You do not touch my breeder.” It was not a threat but a promise of what he would do to anyone who dared touch her.
“Breeder,” she mouthed but shook off her distaste. Right now, she had bigger problems than his archaic vision of women.
Jackson motioned her with his gun. “Now you, in you go, breeder. I’ll come visit you later, see why he considers you a breeder.” He made obscene kissing noises at her, gyrating his hips in lewd motions.
She quickly moved into the cell, away from him, glad for any distance she could put between her and Jackson. Her stomach roiled at the mere thought of a visit from him. A loud growl from the cell next to her, where John tracked Jackson with an unblinking stare, made her spin around.
With John safely behind bars, the thugs smirked and joked. One of them drew his pistol across the bars while he made kissing noises at John. “Don’t worry, I’ll visit you too. Make sure you don’t get jealous of the attention to your girlfriend. We starve you a bit. You’ll be real grateful for some scraps.”
John didn’t react, just continued to stare at Jackson. And the thug, clattering his pistol over the bars, stopped and stepped back.
Another thug giggled. “You’ll be real grateful for some food. The big ones really come to heel well.”
Julia clasped her hand in front of her mouth, swallowing convulsively.
The man with the high giggly voice took a long swig from a bottle and then threw the empty at John through the bars. It shattered. She flinched and covered her head with her arms as some of the glass flew into her cell. Through her arms, she saw that John didn’t duck or flinch. He simply watched the thrower, with the intensity of a snake mesmerizing a mouse, before switching to Jackson again.
“I’m done here,” the thug said and tried to look casual as he walked up the stairs.
John’s gaze followed Jackson’s every move. Jackson walked out with an exaggerated macho strut but he kept his distance from John’s cell.
“Someone should teach them some manners,” Julia muttered.
John touched the iron bars that imprisoned them so effectively, almost as if he tested them. “I will kill them soon.”
“Don’t they have any idea how much trouble they court simply by putting you in a cage?”
“They will soon learn,” he answered, almost absently, all his focus on the iron bars.
“Will you help me get away when they come for me?” She didn’t have to mention her family. He would know she feared them more than the reverend.
He’d been protective of her earlier. Maybe she could persuade him to let her go. Then again, he’d bent that pistol earlier with a strength that frightened her. Would he still be so concerned for her, or would he only save his own skin if he had the chance.
He continued to test the iron bars. “They will not harm you.”
“What are we going to do?” she whispered and hunched her shoulders, crouched into the corner.
She would’ve liked to pretend none of this was happening, wanted to be alone to think for just a moment without the horrendous smells and miserable groaning from the other prisoners.
Her reaction to John creeped her out. He made her feel safe. Considering that he was part of the reason she fled her family five years ago, it was a strange sensation.
A soft groan from across them reminded her of Sarah. She looked at the other cages. Instead of sitting here worrying about what would happen next, she should find out if Sarah was here. She jumped to her feet.
“Sarah,” she shouted. “Are you here?”
A loud grating noise sounded behind her. Julia swung around, whimpered, and pressed herself deeper into the filthy corner. The rank smells and depressing gray walls receded until all she saw was John bending the bars between their cells.
The iron bars broke in his hands with a crunch, as if they were made of optical cables and not metal. Another grating grinding noise, at odds with the way the bars crumbled in his hands, and she flinched.
His gaze never leaving hers, he stepped into her cell.
Chapter 5
Julia pressed her back against the cold brick wall. If she could have, she would’ve clawed through it to get away from the madman coming at her. The false feeling of safety she had experienced around him disappeared.
“What are you on?” She could only manage a whisper.
The latest drug, popularly called Superman Crack, made you invincible for a short time before you went crazy and died. They’d shown on the TC what people under the influence of it did. It shortened the life expectancy of the user to less than a year but, in that short time, they did a lot of damage. John threw down the pieces of iron bars he’d crumpled in his large hands. “On?” he asked.
No matter how sane he sounded, she knew. She more than anyone knew what drugs did to people. It could turn the most mild-mannered husban
d and father into a monster. What would it do to someone like John who’d turned monster a long time ago? She’d grown up with criminals, had seen the worst of drug addiction and violence.
She stared at the pieces of snapped iron bars on the cement floor as if hypnotized. If he became violent, all that would remain of her would be bloody pieces scattered in this cell. “What drug are you taking?” she repeated with forced clam. Depending on how long he’s been using it, she might manage not to set him off.
“I am not taking anything.”
He stepped farther into her cell and she snapped. “Help,” she screamed.
Stumbling back from him, holding out her hands in a futile effort to hold off a crazed, Superman-Crack addict, she stumbled away until she crashed into the bars on the other side of the small cell. She tried to duck around him and escape through the opening he made to his cell but he stepped into her path with blurring speed.
The people in the other cells and cages screamed and banged against the iron bars.
“Help, get me out of here. He’s on crack.”
She grabbed the bars and tried to bend them enough to get through but they didn’t budge. No guards came running, the other people in the cages made frightened animalistic noises that became a cacophony in her ears.
“Oh God, please get me out of here. Get me away from him.” She kept screaming until suddenly, with that inhuman drug-enhanced speed and strength, he grabbed her and placed a hand gently over her mouth. She struggled and tried to scream but only muffled sounds emerged.
“Quiet, human.”
Human? Oh yes, he might be calm and surprisingly gentle in the way he touched her but he was definitely on something. She stilled. Maybe he’d only started on the stuff. He might still be reasonable enough to talk with.
“Are you calm now?”
Shuddering, her heart racing, she nodded, determined to do anything it took to stay alive.
He held her close, his muscled body rock hard against her. Always a big well-built man, she could swear now she felt more bulk than she saw. His hands on her back and his body against her front radiated unnatural heat. Raised body temperature must be a side effect of the drug.
