by Lincoln Cole
He fired off more rounds into the creature’s chest while he backpedaled down the hallway. It jerked its arm, trying to get it free, and managed to pull it loose on the second try. Dominick didn’t wait, but instead, turned and sprinted toward the staircase leading downward, the monster in hot pursuit.
Dominick didn’t try to run around the outer railing to reach the top of the staircase; instead, he jumped over the barrier and landed about four meters down on the stairs, tumbling the rest of the way in a controlled roll. It hurt like hell but bought him some time.
Or so he thought.
The creature smashed into the railing above, bursting through and staggering onto the staircase behind him. It lost its balance and slid down the stairs. Dominick sprinted away from it to the right, toward the dining hall.
The man he’d seen earlier, chowing down, had heard the commotion and came out to investigate. Dominick dashed right past him and into the hall, turning and heading for the kitchen.
He glanced back. The man came after him, but the creature came faster. It didn’t stop either, but instead, just swung a talon down and stabbed the blades into the guard’s back. It swung the other arm in as well, punching the blades through the man’s chest, and then pulled the arms apart.
The man split into shreds, and it seemed like watching a water balloon pop. Dominick winced, and then looked forward as he rushed into the kitchen.
He made it inside a few steps ahead of the creature and slid forward onto his knees, leaning his upper body back and gliding underneath the long metal table in the center of the kitchen.
A huge crashing sound erupted when the creature slammed one of its talons onto the table above his head, but it didn’t have strength enough to burst through. It stumbled into hanging pots and pans while it maneuvered through the room to try and reach him, but he had at least a few seconds’ head start on it.
To run didn’t seem an option, nor did fighting. He needed a distraction and safe place to get to. Brain calculating, he glanced over at the freezer. Could the creature open the door?
Hopefully not.
Dominick rushed over to the stove. It had eight burners, and all of them gas. Quickly, he turned them all to the maximum position without igniting any. He’d just flipped to the last one when the creature rounded the table and swung its talon at him.
He ducked and twisted backward, stepping away from the stove, and the beast came forward again. This time, he reached out and yanked a huge cast-iron skillet down from the ceiling. He dodged one attack, sidestepped a second, and then held up the skillet to block the third.
However, he’d underestimated the monster’s strength.
It blasted the skillet back into his chest, hard, and the impact threw him back across the room. He hit the wall, and pain split his chest where the skillet had hit. Thank God it had rounded sides and not sharp ones, but he still thought it might have cracked a rib.
Luckily, the creature stood in the position he needed it to. In pain, Dominick sucked in a ragged breath of air, and then fished his lighter out of his pocket. He snapped it open, flicked it against his pants to ignite it, and then tossed it at the creature.
He didn’t wait to see what happened, but turned, instead, and ran toward the freezer. A whooshing sound came from behind when the flames ignited, and then he yanked the door open and dove inside, jerking it shut behind him.
He doubted the flame had killed the monster, but hopefully, it had at least hurt or distracted it. His fear that it remained alive and well got confirmed a moment later, though, when an enormous thudding smacked against the door from the outside. It came heavy enough to rock the entire room. Then scratching sounds reached him, as the beast tried to manipulate the door handle, but it didn’t seem able to get a grip.
Dominick let out a sigh of relief when it banged against the metal once more. The metal door stood thick enough that it couldn’t break through—he prayed.
It whaled on the door for a solid ten minutes, though, before things quieted back down, finally. Dominick found a box of frozen goods to sit on and waited in the cold, shivering and rubbing his chest where the skillet had hit him.
He waited a few hours, and nothing changed. No longer could he hear the creature or anything else outside. Dominick checked his phone, but inside the metal freezer, he couldn’t get a signal.
For good measure, he waited an extra hour. The creature must have left. He could imagine it, though, standing as still as a statue outside, waiting for him to step out so that it could cut him into pieces.
Either way, he didn’t have a lot of choices. He didn’t have on heavy clothes and couldn’t stay in here forever. The cold got to him. Also, he needed to get in touch with Frieda.
As well as finding out what had happened, he needed to let her know that Nida had—most likely—gotten Jill’s blood.
With a steadying sigh to calm his nerves, he opened the freezer door, cringing at the thought of the creature’s blade waiting for him just outside.
Instead, he found nothing. The creature had gone, as had any sign of fire or otherwise. The burner switches remained on, but no gas came out. No doubt, a suppression system sat in place, which had taken care of shutting off the valves.
Dominick crept through the kitchen, pistol ready, and moved into the foyer. Again, he found nothing. He went to the security office. Empty. However, the computers had their own generator and had stayed online. When he went to one, he saw the bank of security cameras around the property.
Still jittery, he took a seat and went through them, trying to find out what had happened. It didn’t take him long to figure it out.
The cannibal guard must have come in as a Trojan horse, taken over by a demon to help bring the rest inside. The huge monster had attacked at the outer gates, but at the same time, the other guard had gone through the building and disabled the backup generators and alarm systems.
The guards had tried to respond, falling back to Jill’s quarters, but it proved of no use. The monster had walked through a hail of bullets and cut each one of them down before shredding Jill. Another couple of men had come onto the estate behind the monster and followed it into the room, gathering the woman’s blood into vials before leaving.
The feed cut out when the last generator got turned off, but Dominick knew what he needed to know: Nida had Jill’s blood now. That didn’t bring the only problem, though.
Nida hadn’t come here.
Slow and cautious, he made his way outside. The premises remained quiet, and Dominick felt confident the monster had gone. He flipped open his phone and called Frieda.
She didn’t answer, though, and he assumed her still on her flight stateside to meet him.
Instead, he called Mitchell.
“Hey, Dominick. You on your way? Frieda should be here in a couple of hours.”
“Jill’s dead.”
“What?”
“And something …”
He didn’t even know how to continue that train of thought. How could he ever describe the monster that had attacked him? It had killed the entire security team without assistance and would have had no trouble cutting him down if he’d stuck around to face it.
“What is it?” Mitchell asked. “What were you going to say?”
“Never mind.” Dominick shook his head. “Don’t worry; I’m on my way.”
Chapter 17
He awoke to banging on his hotel door. Groggy, Haatim sat up and rubbed his eyes. What time was it? It proved impossible to tell because his body felt completely out of sync. Not yet that awake, he staggered across the room to the door and threw it open.
Savin stood there, grinning widely. “Are you ready?”
Had a few hours passed already? He yawned. “Sure. Hang on; let me get changed.”
He moved to close the door, but Savin stepped past him and into the room. “You like cold air?”
Haatim nodded. “Yeah. I turned up the air conditioning.”
Savin nodded solemnly and went ove
r to the AC unit by the window. He stood next to it, holding his hands over the vents as though studying them.
Haatim hesitated. “You, uh … going to wait downstairs?”
Savin turned, tilting his head to the side. “No, why?”
“So I can change?”
“You can change.” Savin turned back to the AC. “I can wait. It is no problem.”
Haatim opened his mouth to object, changed his mind, and headed over to the restroom. Though small and cramped, he managed to put on some fresh clothes in only a couple of minutes. He left the bathroom door cracked open, though, because the tiny room got too hot when he closed it.
Dressed, he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck. He hated scarves, even in winter, and it felt almost like peeling off a Band-Aid on his tender skin. It still looked red and swollen but had started to heal a little. The chain marks remained visible, but they too had faded.
The bathroom door pushed open all of a sudden and almost knocked him aside. Savin stood there, smiling. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Haatim said, hastily wrapping the scarf back around his neck.
Savin’s expression changed to concern. “What happened?”
“Nothing major,” Haatim said. “Just an accident.”
Savin didn’t seem convinced but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned and headed for the exit, and Haatim followed.
As soon as they got outside the room, the heat set in again, and Haatim found himself struggling to breathe once more. Time spent in the air conditioning felt like resetting, and his body had to adjust again.
The air had cooled, though, and even though only five o’clock in local time, the sun had dropped already.
Father Paladina had set up Savin to take him around the city and act as his guide, and apparently, Savin knew their intended destination. They headed out to the street, and the car sat parked in the hotel’s turn around, right next to a sign that warned that it was a tow away zone.
Savin climbed in, and then he reached across and opened the door for Haatim. Less formal now, which Haatim appreciated.
“Let’s go.”
Haatim shrugged and then got in. “Where to?”
“Market.”
“What’s at the market?”
“Food,” Savin said.
He put the car into gear, jerked out into traffic, and they were off. Haatim found himself clutching the doorframe again, and in the twilight of the sun disappearing, the Cambodian’s wild driving seemed even more terrifying.
“Hungry?”
“What? Yeah.”
“I know good food,” Savin said.
They drove the rest of the way in silence for about another ten minutes, weaving through traffic and down narrow streets until they, finally, came to a stop in front of an open-air corner restaurant.
Haatim took a few steadying breaths. His hands shook and had turned red from holding onto the car so tightly, and he sweated copious amounts once more.
“We’re here.”
Haatim nodded and climbed out of the car. The restaurant looked small and deep, an open establishment with ceiling fans spinning lazily overhead.
It had about ten tables inside. All of them empty except for two occupied by diners. A woman greeted them at the door, speaking quickly to Savin in Khmer, and then she led them over to one of the empty tables. Savin beckoned for Haatim to follow.
“Good food,” he said.
The woman smiled at them both, set down a pair of menus, and then disappeared. Haatim picked up the menu, took one glance at it, and then looked at Savin. “I can’t read any of this.”
Savin nodded. “I know. I’ll choose for you.”
That didn’t sound too encouraging. Haatim didn’t consider himself a picky eater, but for definite, he didn’t like having other people pick out food for him.
Still, he couldn’t recognize any of the words on the page, or even the alphabet, so he sat there, sort of helpless.
The waitress returned, and Savin ordered in Khmer, speaking quickly and gesturing his hand toward Haatim. The woman nodded along and then disappeared once more into the kitchen.
“What did you order for me?”
“Chicken and rice.”
That surprised Haatim because it sounded quite a bit tamer than he’d expected. By the time the food arrived, he felt starved and chowed down on it at speed, devouring the whole plateful. The food—a bed of rice—came with a dish of soupy stew that he poured over the grain as he ate. It tasted spicy and flavorful.
The kitchen had chopped up the chicken into little pieces, bone and all, and Haatim had to eat the pieces slowly to make sure he didn’t swallow any little chips of the bone.
Savin had ordered himself a bowl of what looked like intestine, but Haatim couldn’t make it out for sure. He’d eaten intestine before, but not in a long while, and he hadn’t become a fan of the texture.
They didn’t talk while they ate, focusing on the food, and Savin finished eating everything in only minutes. Haatim considered himself a fast eater, but he’d barely gotten halfway done when Savin pushed away his plate. Then, he just stared at Haatim while he chewed.
It got awkward, fast, and Haatim tried to strike up a conversation to make it less so. “Have you seen the woman we’re looking for?”
Savin nodded. “Yes. The black woman.”
“Where?”
“Here,” he said. “That’s why we came. It was a few nights ago.”
“Here?”
Haatim couldn’t help but look around, hoping he might spot Abigail sitting somewhere in the restaurant. Though not here, of course, he couldn’t help but feel a little let down.
Still, it gave him hope that they’d come to the same area where she was last seen.
“Yes. She came here.”
“Have you seen her anywhere else?”
Savin shrugged. “I have seen her around the city. In the market.”
Not the most helpful of guides.
Haatim finished eating just as the waitress brought over the bill. She set it on the table and then stood next to it, staring at him. It took him a second to realize that Savin also sat staring at him.
“Oh,” he said, fishing out his wallet.
He glanced at the bill but couldn’t understand it. Basically, it just looked like a garbled mess of numbers, and he had no idea of the exchange rate.
Father Paladina had given him a fair amount of cash and told him the rate when he first left, but he’d forgotten—something like three or four thousand to one. With a shrug, he pulled out a twenty and handed it to the woman.
She smiled, picked up the bill, and disappeared. A few minutes passed, and then Haatim glanced over at Savin.
“I won’t get change, will I?”
Savin shook his head, still grinning. “No.”
Haatim sighed and stood. “What now? Should we check out the market and see if we spot her?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Savin stood, too, and headed outside. Haatim followed. The marketplace appeared mostly empty, and it looked like many of the vendors worked at closing up. They went into a huge auditorium type of building and saw countless vendor stands littering the area. Packed close together, they formed narrow walkways that proved difficult to navigate.
Savin weaved through the crowd gracefully, but Haatim found himself stumbling into people every couple of steps. He kept an eye out as they walked, looking for Abigail, but didn’t see any sign of her.
They kept walking for about an hour, moving to another marketplace that seemed to have been an old military building crammed with walls to section off individual stores. One child ran up to him, holding up bracelets and speaking quickly, and another appeared a few minutes later, offering sunglasses.
Haatim waved away both of them, gesturing that he couldn’t understand them, and they seemed to get the idea. One of them tried the same thing on Savin, who yelled at him.
“Like rats,” Savin said, shaking his head.
Haatim couldn’t think of a good response, so they continued walking in silence. He didn’t see any sign of Abigail, but he noticed a pair of foreigners that earned a double glance from him. One of them, a skinny man, had sallow skin and a shaved head, and the other had darker skin and dead eyes.
They looked out of place sitting in an outdoor restaurant, and what caught Haatim’s attention most was that while he and Savin walked through the marketplace, they’d passed the same place twice about an hour apart, and the men hadn’t moved. They sat watching the crowd studiously, searching for someone.
Father Paladina hadn’t managed to supply him with pictures of who the Church had sent to deal with Abigail, but he’d said it was two men and gave descriptions of them. These two matched up almost perfectly.
Finally, they gave up the search that night when most of the shops had closed down, and the streets stood empty. Savin drove Haatim back to his hotel and dropped him off. His driving didn’t seem as insane with fewer vehicles on the road, and to be honest, Haatim felt too tired to care anymore. His legs hurt. His neck hurt. And he just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed.
He kicked off his shoes and took a quick shower before climbing under the sheets. The staff had shut off the AC while he’d gone out, so he flipped that on again. Worry crept through his head because if the assassins found Abigail before he could, then it would make it difficult to get her to surrender. Now that he had seen the two men, the danger of the situation seemed more present.
It would prove nearly impossible to talk to her even if he found her, though. What would he say? Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m here to try and save you from Church assassins?
Hey, I know you don’t care about me, but I care about you and want to keep you safe.
Still, he had to try.
His biggest doubt, however, came from wondering what he would do if the Church found Abigail while he met with her. If he couldn’t convince her to turn herself in, then he would be forced to try and protect her, which seemed like a dangerous and risky prospect. The exact opposite of what Frieda wanted for him. The Church didn’t hunt him right now, but if he did that, he would certainly get added to their list.
