by J. E. Taylor
Steve put his hands back down and took a shaky step into the clearing. I should have launched the knife at Bill the minute he stepped into the opening. Fucking idiot!
With every step he took, he silently berated himself. He still had the gun tucked away in his boot holster and he prayed for an opening.
Bill stepped out of reach as Steve approached, and Jake pulled Jennifer back a few feet. “In the center.” He pointed the knife and then brought it back to her throat.
Steve did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Jennifer’s. I promise I’ll get you out of this, even if it’s the last thing I do.
“Kneel.”
He knelt.
Jake nodded for Bill. “If you make a move, I will kill her.”
“That’s getting old,” Steve said, but kept his hands on his knees, digging his nails into the denim as Bill grasped the end of the dagger and yanked it out. Steve blinked and the world spun. Oh shit was his last thought before the world went black.
* * * *
“No! Steve!” Jennifer’s scream echoed on the water. Steve’s limp body tilted backwards onto the moss and she reached for him, but Jake yanked her back. Panic clouded her mind and she struggled in Jake’s grasp, screaming Steve’s name over and over. “Get away from him, you bastard!” she spit when Bill collected blood from the wound.
Bill glared in her direction. “You’re lucky I don’t cut his fucking head off.” He handed the cup to Jake and grabbed Steve’s wrists, dragging him outside the circle surrounding the pentacle. “And while I’d love to do that, I think having him meet the beast is a much better choice. I imagine he’ll do a lot of screaming before he dies.”
She broke away from Jake, spinning and delivering an upper cut that snapped Jake’s head back. He backhanded her, sending her sprawling on the moss. Before she could recover, Jake yanked a handful of her hair and dragged her back toward the center.
Jake ripped her shirt and she swung, fury blinding her and the will to fight, to kill these bastards overrode common sense. She swept Jake’s feet from under him and he landed on his ass. She didn’t wait for him to recover, sending a kick into the side of his head, hoping to break his neck.
Arms grabbed her from behind and she twisted, reaching back and flipping Bill onto the ground at her feet. She stepped back and tripped over the challis, knocking it over. Steve’s blood seeped into the ground and the horror on both Bill’s and Jake’s face made her laugh.
“Run, Jen.”
Steve’s labored voice made her spin, her gaze skimming over him, following his frightened gaze, and landing on the form in the water. Her nightmares flooded her muscles with fear, freezing her in the spot.
“Run,” Steve said, his voice barely a whisper, his vocal cords strangled with fear. He took a deep breath, struggling to his feet. “Run!”
Chapter 42
Steve’s command loosened her paralysis and Jennifer bolted in the opposite direction; into the woods, flying within a few feet of where Bill had found his footing. Jake reached for her, but she knocked his hand away, fleeing from the beast from her nightmares.
The dream surrounded her and she sobbed, the branches cutting her skin more deeply than the dagger had.
She slid to a stop, leaning over and vomiting the foul contents of her stomach on the dark forest floor. She spit and turned back toward the clearing, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her entire frame trembling.
She couldn’t let him die; she had to stop that thing.
Chapter 43
The beast reached Jake first and swatted him like a fly, his claws ripping through skin and bone like a master sword, separating his torso from his legs and sending his top half toward the wood line near Steve.
Steve’s gaze landed on what was left of Jake and snapped to the metal object just short of the brush. He launched toward it, praying the thing wouldn’t attack him next. When his hand swiped the gun from the ground, he spun, aiming in time to see Bill dart toward the path they came in.
The beast caught Bill before he left the crunchy moss. It toyed with him, raking a sharp claw over his back, and Bill screamed.
Its laugh cascaded over the cove, throaty, dark and full of menace. “I promised a painful death.” The beast’s voice scraped out of its throat and into Bill’s ear, and then it tore his arm from his torso.
Bill’s screams continued and Steve stared at the carnage. His stomach dropped and acid lined his throat when the beast disemboweled Bill. Intestines spilled out of the gash along with a torrent of blood. Bill’s scream caught in a gag, bile and blood spewing from his mouth, encircling the now continuous scream. The beast sheared clean through Bill’s leg, tossing the limb aside like a discontented child before dragging a still-screaming Bill under the black water.
Steve stumbled toward the path, but he only got as far as the center of the pentacle before the black shape rose out of the water again. Fear made his heart ram against his chest and each of his wounds throbbed in concert. Black like an oil slick and remotely in the shape of a very large man, its eyes glowed, altering between red, orange, and yellow, just like the embers in a hot fire. Steve’s mind reeled and he pulled the trigger. The gun jammed and he stared at it for a moment before his gaze snapped back to the thing approaching. “Shit!”
It reached out and hit him, sending him across the clearing. The gun fell onto the ground at the far edge of the wood line.
Steve scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide and darting around the cove until they fell on the dagger. He moved to retrieve it, wrapping his hand around the handle just as the beast came for him. He backed slowly away with the dagger in hand and it stopped in the center of the pentacle.
“You.” It pointed its claw. “You need to die.” The ground shook as the words rumbled from its chest.
Steve blinked but didn’t respond. The scent of fire and rotting meat radiated from the beast, filling Steve’s nostrils from fifteen feet away.
This is NOT possible!
The temperature in the clearing plummeted to the point where he could see his ragged breath hanging in the air in front of him. He shivered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Yet the ground was singed with each step the beast took, filling the air with the stench of burnt moss. He took an involuntary step backwards, his chest still oozing from both stab wounds. As he held the dagger in his hand, pointing it at the thing, his eyes darted between the blade and the beast’s hands. It seemed like such an inadequate weapon against the razor-sharp claws at the end of the demon’s fingers.
It changed its form, morphing, altering, solidifying.
Steve gaped at Peg. Peg with red eyes.
He blinked again, his mind unable to wrap itself around what he was seeing. He lowered the dagger a fraction of an inch. Sirens deep inside raged and he brought the blade back up in response.
“You killed that little girl,” Steve said.
“She was so sweet, innocent, and pure.” It breathed and stepped forward, still taking the shape of his dead fiancé.
Steve could smell its breath. “You are not Peg,” he said with conviction.
It took another step forward and the outline of the pentacle began to glow.
Steve stared at the ground and stepped forward, within the lines of the pentacle, bringing his gaze back to the demon, praying whatever the demon did, it would be quick, but the gleam in the beast’s eyes, promised otherwise.
It laughed and struck out, sending Steve flying to the far edge of the pentacle. The beast’s claws left deep cuts along his face, neck, and chest, and burning agony ripped through his skin. He struggled to his feet and stepped back into the circle, the knife grasped in his hand and his throat closing in pain. His breath wheezed and he took another step forward, allowing his blood to drip on the sacred ground.
“She’s mine, not yours,” Steve gasped pointing the dagger in its direction.
The beast charged.
“Leave him alone,” Jennifer’s voice rang through the clearing and the be
ast spun in her direction.
* * * *
Jennifer gulped, staring down the beast from her nightmares. It paused, lifted its nose in the air and sniffed. A feral smile stretched across its face, revealing sharp jagged teeth like a shark.
The beast stepped toward her. “I want to hear you scream for eternity,” it said.
Jennifer froze and began to shake. This thing was in my closet!
It laughed. “Yes, I was there.” It approached her.
“Don’t touch her,” Steve said and stumbled, dropping to his hands and knees.
Its smile faded. “She is mine.” The beast reached out, grasping her wrist and pulled her forward.
“I belong to Steve,” she said, straightening her back and glaring at the beast despite the burning pain where it clasped her wrist.
“You were supposed to be mine two years ago,” it growled and morphed into the form of Tom. “I died for you,” it said.
Jennifer stared, her mouth dropping and the fear transitioning to shock as she stared into deep dark eyes. Even his voice was accurate, but the stench of burning flesh and moss yanked her back to reality. She popped her mouth closed and leveled a glare, ripping her arm from his grip. She stepped forward, shoving the image in front of her.
Her hands burnt. “I hate you!” she screamed in its face.
The beast roared, transitioning back into the black form, jerking away. In its fury, it picked her up and threw her across the clearing.
Her legs smashed into a tree trunk, whipping her around and Jennifer yelped when she landed on the ground. Pain gripped her legs and she didn’t dare look at the damage. Her breath locked in her chest and she struggled to bring air to her lungs. Her mind systematically shut down and everything went fuzzy.
* * * *
Steve climbed to his feet and took a step in her direction, the pain etched in her features sent a surge of anger through him, overriding any sense of fear and he turned on the demon, meeting its fiery glare.
“You tainted her,” it said, pointing a claw in his direction.
“I guess drinking the blood of Palawion’s descendant probably didn’t help.” He flipped the dagger so he held the sharp edge, readying himself.
Its eyes narrowed, falling to the wounds traversing across Steve’s chest and face and to the blood dripping on the ground. It took an unsteady step backwards.
Steve grinned. “Yes. I read up on you. On what could send you back into the bowels of hell.” Steve pitched the dagger through the air and into the beast’s chest. The dagger sank through the demon’s skin and it roared with fury, lumbering toward him.
Steve lost his balance, falling to his knees. In vain, he attempted to stand, but he crumbled to his hands and knees. The demon grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking him up and slowly running its claws down his back, ripping the flesh open. Steve shrieked, his voice filled with pain and panic.
“You’re coming to hell with me,” it seethed. Letting go of his hair, it raised its arm to strike the final blow.
* * * *
Jennifer saw the gun through the haze—it was the only thing clear in her line of sight. She picked it up and aimed at the beast. Clenching her teeth, she held on to consciousness with bitter determination, believing the bullet could kill the thing in the clearing. She said a silent prayer, asking God to make her shot true, and yelled, “Go to hell you son of a bitch!”
When it turned toward her voice, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and light that filled the clearing astounded her.
The bullet cut through the dark, leaving a trail of white light in its path, piercing the beast where a human heart would be. The impact lifted it off its feet, sending it catapulting through the air into the center of the black water. White light seared the blackness as it hit the surface, sending waves of clear water in every direction, drenching Steve.
* * * *
When he crumpled to the ground, the impact sent pain to every surface. He opened his eyes in time to see Jennifer’s eyes roll up into her head and the gun slip out of her hand and onto the black moss.
Pulling himself to his feet, he stumbled to her. Picking her up in his arms, he headed in the direction of Paradise Cove and his grandfather’s cabin. When he stepped out of the perimeter of Black Cove, the water seeped into the basin, leaving a muddy, murky sinkhole. The remnants of centuries of the demon’s carnage were visible for all to see.
Each step required Herculean effort. His arms burned from holding her, the torn skin of his chest and back screamed, threatening to drop him on the spot. He stumbled, caught his balance, and kept moving because he knew if he stopped, he’d die without knowing she was safe.
Please God, please God, please God.
He prayed with each step and when he entered Paradise Cove, he began to cry. Great sobs fought the air for space in his ruined chest. The path to his grandfather’s place seemed like an impossible feat, but when he stepped onto the lawn from the edge of the woods and saw the FBI lights and the central command station in the yard, he collapsed to his knees.
His last coherent thought before all went black, Thank you, God.
Chapter 44
Murphy glanced toward the path again. The gunshot had come from that direction and the team was mobilizing.
He saw Steve stumble out of the woods with Jennifer in his arms.
The lights in the yard gave him a good look at his young protégé and what he saw made his blood run cold.
Steve collapsed with her on the lawn and Murphy started running.
They were both unconscious and barely breathing when the ambulance pulled in to bring her to the hospital in Concord, and the Life Star Helicopter landed to take him to Boston.
Neither one of them saw the sunrise over Mirror Lake, just as Bill had predicted.
Chapter 45
“Oh, Lord, help me get through today,” she whispered. Her voice echoed in the empty chapel. It was the first time Jennifer had been back to Brooksfield since that horrible day two months before.
She slowly pushed her wheelchair out of the small church. The cold, misty day slapped at her cheeks while her black hair hung in her eyes. She rolled toward the gravesite. A wilted rose lay in her lap.
Sighing, she stopped in front of the shiny new headstone engraved with care. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the rose.
Picking up the flower, she tossed it onto Tracy’s grave. “I miss you,” she whispered to her best friend’s headstone. “I am so sorry.”
His hand descended on her shoulder, making her jerk in surprise. She turned and looked at him, eyes wide with shock. She hadn’t seen him in two months, since she killed that thing.
It had been a miracle that he’d been able to carry her for over a mile, and still another that he was alive at all. Along with the broken arm resting in a sling, the only visible scar traversed his cheek, and continued down his neck, stretching under his crisp white shirt.
The tailored black suit hid the bulk of his injuries. Bandages wrapped around his torso, immobilizing four broken ribs. Angry red scars from the beast’s claws cut across his chest and back along with the multiple stab wounds, all hidden by the dark Armani knock-off. He’d cut his hair recently, shorter and cleaner than it had been in early September.
“It wasn’t your fault, babe,” he said, looking at Tracy’s gravestone. If I hadn’t called her…
“Murphy said you almost died.”
Steve nodded. “They told me I did. It was touch and go for a while, I guess.” He glanced back at her and her tears started again. “But I was damned if I was going to die and never see you again.”
“When did you get out of the hospital?” she asked through the tears.
“Last week. My parents have been taking care of me and it really sucks.” He offered her a hint of a smile. “This is the first time I’ve been in Brooksfield, though. I heard you were coming.”
Jennifer nodded. “My folks drove me up.”
Steve nodded. “I know. Your mom call
ed.” He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you come see me?”
Jennifer began to sob and shake her head. “I was afraid to.”
Steve turned the wheelchair toward him and knelt in front of her, trying not to wince. “Why?” he asked, his own eyes welling with tears. He had enough exposure to rape victims to know the answer, but he asked anyway.
“Because you saw, you saw everything.”
Steve took her hands in his and put his head on her knees, grappling with the mental anguish. Hot tears burned the back of his throat. Yes, he saw everything, every nasty vile thing they did to her, but it didn’t alter the depth of his emotion. He loved her and failed her.
He shook his head slowly and looked up, the tears running hot tracks down his cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them,” he whispered. “That I couldn’t protect you.”
“You did the best you could under the circumstances.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and wiped her face.
Steve looked down at the ground. “I should have taken you into custody when I first realized you were in the middle of this. If…”
Jennifer cut him off. “Stop! There was nothing either of us could have done differently. If we had, we would be dead right now and that thing would still be alive.”
He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the nightmares or the feeling of responsibility over what happened to Tracy. Steve looked up at her. “Do you still love me?” he asked, deathly afraid of the answer.
Jennifer nodded, tears spilling from her eyes again, lining her cheeks. “Do you?”
“God, yes,” he said, wiping the tears off his face. “You are what kept me alive.” He removed a small box from his pocket and took her hand. “I don’t ever want to wake up again without you by my side. Ever.” He looked at Tracy’s headstone. “This isn’t exactly the grand spectacle I’d originally planned, but Tracy helped me pick these out so I figure she would appreciate being a part of it in some way.” He looked back at Jennifer and slipped a ring on her finger. “Jennifer Ann Curtis, will you marry me?” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with tears.
