“Calm down, man.” Nigel steps back and straightens his shirt where I had it balled in my fists. “It wasn’t personal; it was about the story.”
“Well it is personal to me. McNab says you can go. There’s the door. Get your shit and leave.” I point toward the door. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Harry, what did you find out?” I ask right away. Everyone in the room is very interested in this conversation.
“I’m assuming since no one called me there’s no news about Shay.” Harry’s tone is defeated, which doesn’t bode well for my hopes for his mission.
“No, nothing new. But how about you?”
“Not too much, just that Shay is also a person of interest to the organization now too.” His voice sounds tired and defeated. He coughs and sputters before he can continue.
“Are you okay?” My concern for how he sounds diverts me from asking more about this “organization.”
“Yeah, I picked up a cold up here. Let’s just say this place isn’t like a Florida spring.”
“Where are you?”
“Listen, Eli, I need to talk to McNab. Can you put him on?” Now I’m irritated; whatever he did find out, he doesn’t want to share it with me.
“Sure, here he is.” I hand the phone to McNab and go get a refill on my coffee.
“Harry, what’s up?” McNab asks, walking into the hallway toward the bedroom.
I turn to Nigel and inform him. “You can go now.”
Nigel looks to Carl as if he’s going to help him. “Please let me stay just another day. I’ve got nowhere to go.”
Carl looks to me hoping to find sympathy, but there is none. “This guy’s a total douchebag and would cut any of our throats for a good story.”
“Yes, but he’s genuinely scared, and until we find out what really happened, I think he should stay. But it’s your house and your choice.” Carl concedes at the end.
I run my fingers through my hair and sit on the couch, defeated. I really hate this guy. This is total bullshit. “Tomorrow, you’re gone, so get your shit straight and have somewhere else to be.”
Nigel releases a relieved sigh. “Thanks, mate!”
God even his voice is annoying. Rex runs to the door, barking, before the bell rings. I pat Rex’s head on the way to the door.
“Elijah Walker?” The courier on the other side asks.
“Yes.”
He hands me a manila envelope and leaves the doorway. I find it odd that he didn’t ask for a signature. I study the envelope with no return address and only my name on it. Carl’s eyes widen.
“Eli, let me see that.” He takes the envelope and hands it back to me quickly. “Nothing good in there.”
“I’m sure it’s my walking papers from the D.A.’s office.” It certainly took Preston long enough to get them to me. It was only a matter of time. I slide my finger under a top corner and tear it open while walking to the kitchen counter.
I’m surprised by what I pull out. I study the anime style drawing of Shay holding a falchion dripping with blood. “McNab!”
McNab comes in from the hallway, finishing up his call with Harry, while Carl and Nigel gather around me to look at the drawings. Each page is more horrific than the last. This is in Shay’s art style, and it looks like her work.
One of the pictures shows my living room splattered in blood and random body parts everywhere. There’s also a picture for each of us in the house at this moment, including McNab’s crew and a few pictures of people I don’t know in a location I’m unfamiliar with.
Carl is shown with a surgically precise cut down the middle of his torso with his entrails hanging out spelling out “Shay.” In the next panel is McNab nailed to the wall Jesus-style with the word “Is” carved into his legs – a letter on each thigh. Pitch is on the kitchen floor holding his head in his lap with a Post-it note over his mouth that reads “Mine.” And then there’s the image of me.
My heart is in one hand, my brain is in the other, and a bottle of whiskey sits between my legs. The word “Forever” is chiseled across my chest.
McNab is in shock. Judging from the silence, we are all thinking the same thing. We are wondering if this is an image of things to come, a threat or both. We all wait for McNab, and it’s so quiet in the room full of men that you can hear the whistle of air moving past someone’s nose hair.
Nigel thumbs through the panels until he finds the one depicting his demise. He’s in the bathroom completely dismembered with his limbs in the bathtub and his belly cut open to reveal newspaper stuffed in his body cavity and coming out of his mouth, as though he were regurgitating it. All color drains from his face and his breathing becomes labored. He immediately drops the panel and backs away from the kitchen counter. He puts his hands up as if to protest. “Bollocks, I’m out.” He goes to the hallway and quickly reappears with a bag in hand, clothes hanging out of the edges. The rest of us are still speechless. McNab seems to have nothing to offer as Nigel walks across the room to the foyer.
“I’m not sticking around, and if I were you guys, I’d get the fuck out of this house of horrors, too. None of McNab’s little voodoo trinkets or protections can save us from this.” With that, he closes the door so hard and fast that it doesn’t latch and just swings back open.
I continue through all the art pieces, finding images of Pitch and Quag. Even Rex didn’t escape the butcher.
I see two panels of Shay. In the first one she’s sitting in a very dark place, cradling her knees to her chest. She looks so forlorn, covered in what looks like dirt and blood. Her hair is crusted with dried blood or mud. I study the elements of the piece, hoping to find a clue how to help her. How to find where she is. I see her holding someone’s hand, and I look closer to see Oliver, but something in me stirs and brings me to the conclusion that this is not Oliver, but Aiden.
The other image of Shay is more disturbing then the first one. She’s standing in a tangled mess of vines with a crazed look in her eyes. She’s holding a falchion sword that’s dripping with blood. Blood is on her clothes and is certainty in her eyes. This depiction of her leaves no doubt that this Shay, the one in the picture, is capable of killing.
“McNab, what the hell is this?” I motion to the panels.
Everyone in the room is visibly spooked and looking to McNab for some kind of answer. “Pitch.” McNab’s voice is demanding, but shaky.
Pitch comes from the hallway and stops short when he breaches the doorway. “What the fuck is happening in here?”
“I need you to get the spectrometer; we’ve got some artwork to analyze.” McNab returns his attention to the panels.
Pitch comes to see what we are looking at and picks up the image of Nigel. “Whoa, where did these come from?”
“They were just delivered,” I answer simply.
“Well, this is some scary shit.” He starts to drop the panel and snatches it back up again. “Wait a minute, this one is changing.”
“What?” McNab takes the picture from Pitch and his eyes widen. “Holy Hell.”
“What is it?” I ask, feeling fear coursing through me that something could possibly have McNab even more shaken.
We all gather around the picture, and McNab turns it around for us to see the image now shows Trish in the bathroom with the word “Betrayer” written in blood on the bathtub and shit spewing from her mouth.
“Trish.” Her name comes out on my breath.
“Very good, bumble-fuck.” Her voice carries from the foyer. “Sorry to break up the circle, jerk, but I came to check in to see if you’ve found Shay.” Her heels click-clack across the tile.
“Jesus Christ.” Pitch looks at Trish with disbelief.
“No, just me, but close.” Trish stands in front of Pitch with her hands on her hips.
Pitch quickly turns and heads for the hallway.
“So have you heard anything?” She looks at me for the answer.
“Not about Shay, no.”
“You know, you’re
fucking useless. How do you lose a grown woman?” she snaps.
Carl exhales and puts the panel on the counter and runs his hands over his crew cut, shaking his head.
“We don’t know. And unless you have something to contribute, you should leave,” Carl says, walking across the living room. He, much like everyone else, does not like Trish. He snaps a look in my direction. “No, it’s that.” He points to the drawing of Trish.
“What are you looking at?” Trish approaches the kitchen island where all the drawings are splayed out. She picks up the image of her and her eyes widen, then narrow. “What the fuck is this?”
“We don’t know,” McNab interjects, and he takes the paper from her hands.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Her voice reaches an upper register. She starts looking at the other images. “This is fucking sick! Did Shay do these?”
“We really don’t know what they are or where they came from,” I tell her while I put my hand on her shoulder for comfort.
A hopeless expression crosses her face. Seeing her so lost and off guard is foreign to me. There’s no malice in her countenance, only fear and confusion. She looks up at me and tears spill out of the corners of her eyes. “Eli, what is happening?” She curls into my chest, and my whole body goes rigid with extreme discomfort. Trish has never been a touchy-feely person, and I like it that way.
“Eli.” Carl nods at me, and I’m assuming he wants me to comfort her, but it’s difficult. I put my arms around her and hold her stiffly, and the sobbing and incoherent questions flow from her.
In between her sobs I catch bits and pieces of what she is saying. I hear her say Shay and Kevin’s names and “Why” and “What the fuck?” It goes on for a solid five minutes, and we are all just standing there, astounded that Trish actually seems to have some sort of soul.
“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt.” Pitch stands in the doorway to the hall wearing an alarmed expression. “We’ve got some strange activity in here.”
“What’s going on?” McNab slides off the stool and heads for Pitch.
“The EMF reader is off the charts, but I got the ghost box working, and I can make out bits of pieces of conversation,” Pitch explains, then hesitates. “There’s something else.”
“What is it?” McNab asks.
“Well, now there’s two of them.” He’s still unsure of what he’s saying.
“Oh shit.” Carl looks at McNab, his face riddled with apprehension.
“Two of them?” McNab blinks several times as though it’s helping his thought process. “Two Shays?”
“Yeah.”
I realize this is so much worse than it was five minutes ago. “Elise.”
McNab throws his head back in full understanding. “Jesus, this is bad.”
“What the hell are you all talking about?” Trish blows her nose.
“I can’t explain right now.” I head straight past Pitch and McNab. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get in there, but I have to do something. I can’t continue to stand here with my dick in my hand.
“Guys, you gotta see this,” Quag calls from the bedroom.
We all crowd around the doorway of the bedroom, and it’s the freakiest thing to see the multicolored figures moving on the screen. I can hear talking, but I can’t quite make out the words.
One of the figures is holding still, turning only to track the movement of the other. The one that’s moving is running, and instinctively I just know that’s Shay. She falls, and the other figure moves toward her. We all suck in a collective breath as we watch the scene play out. We are all impotent to do anything other than watch.
“McNab, Jesus Christ, we have to do something.” It comes out of me like a whimper. I feel so helpless.
McNab’s expression is more alarming than the images on the screen. Seeing him looking completely clueless is scary as hell, because I have no idea what to do and I was hoping he knew.
“Carl? What do we do?” I turn to him, pleading.
Carl’s eyes are closed and he’s bracing himself on the wall. He looks like he’s in pain.
“Carl?” McNab barks, but Carl doesn’t answer.
Pitch goes to Carl and puts a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then looks at McNab.
“Carl!” McNab moves toward him.
Pitch puts his hand up. “Give him a minute, he’s in.”
“Eli, would Elise hurt Shay?” McNab’s voice is trembling.
I think about it. I want to say no, but I just can’t. The only thing predictable about Elise is that she was bitter and hateful. “I don’t know, I can’t say she wouldn’t.”
I realize how ridiculous it is that I’m talking about a dead person like it were normal to predict her actions. McNab is looking at the screen again, watching Elise’s movements closely.
Elise crouches down next to where Shay is laying and strokes her hair. She’s speaking, but we aren’t able to understand it.
“Damn it, Pitch, can’t you get the ghost box to clear that up?” McNab snaps. He’s really shaken, which has me very concerned.
“I’m getting a reading, and Shay is as okay as she can be. But we have to pull her out of there. I can’t read Elise, but I don’t think she has Shay’s best interests at heart.” Carl finally comes out of his trance.
“Someone’s got to go in, but who?” McNab looks at each one of us, me last. “It can’t be me.”
“Of course I’ll go. Tell me what I have to do to get her out of there.” I volunteer without any clue as to what I’m supposed to do, or how, or if it’s even possible.
“Eli, you have to save her.” Trish speaks up from down the hallway.
“I’m going to,” I say with resolution.
“Okay, we have to put together a plan and I have to explain some things to you.” McNab looks at me like I’m a dead man walking. Whatever it takes to get her out of there, I’ll do it.
“Eli?” Trish is full of concern and it’s throwing me off.
“I’m going to get her back.” I put my hands on her shoulders and watch as the tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Shouldn’t someone with some sort of experience be going in?” Trish asks, looking straight at McNab.
“It would be ideal, but there’s no one here that has as much of a chance to get her out as him.” He ticks his head in my direction.
“Can you go with him?” she asks.
“No.” McNab answers quickly, too quickly for my taste. “I think it’s time for you to go. Don’t you think you should go?”
“I– I–” Trish stammers.
“Listen, those drawings have me spooked; we’ll explain everything later, but–” McNab cuts me off.
“It’s not safe for you here, it’s not safe for anyone that’s here, so it’s best if you be on your way.” He pushes past her, careful not to brush against her.
Trish grabs him by the arm. “Hey.”
McNab shudders and pulls away, stumbling. “Nobody touches McNab. You need to leave or you’re going to end up like the picture.” His tone is cruel. I’m feeling a little bad for Trish.
“Fine.” Trish goes to the kitchen island and grabs her purse. “You’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”
“Get out.” McNab’s voice hits a lower register full of threat.
“Call me when you hear something.” She click-clacks across the tile foyer and looks back at me over her shoulder. “Eli, be careful.”
“I will.”
She puts her hand on the doorknob, and I can see her head shaking. She turns around one last time. “Eli?”
“Yes.”
“I still think you’re a fucking asshole.” She just couldn’t help herself.
“I know.” I smile.
She gives me the finger as the door closes behind her.
“Okay, what do I have to do?” I turn to McNab.
Carl sits on the couch and motions for me to do the same.
“Yeah, you should sit down
for this.”
I sit across from Carl and hold my head in my hands and await my instructions.
“This is going to be dangerous; are you sure?” McNab asks.
“I figure it’s dangerous or you’d be doing it.” I hope he detects the annoyance in my voice. “Whatever it takes to get her back.”
Chapter 27
Unforgiveable
Shay
The smell of peat and mud fills my nostrils, and I can feel the grit of dirt in my mouth. I roll over and open my eyes to see Elise standing over me. It takes a minute to regain my senses of what is happening. A sharp pain shoots through my head straight to my chest when I realize that I’ve lost Aiden again.
“Are you okay?” Elise asks, seemingly concerned.
I look at her with disgust and answer. “Yeah, everything’s peachy.”
“Hey, I’m the sarcastic one.” She smiles. Weird.
“Well, let’s take inventory.” I count on my fingers. “I’m stuck in Hell with my dead sister and I have no way to get out.”
“We can finally be together, be the sisters you always wanted to be.” She kneels down to meet my gaze.
She’s pulling at the parts of what I always wanted but know that I could never have. Not even now. Why would she ever want me to stay here with her in Hell? “I think that ship has sailed.”
“You can stay here with me. Stay with me, Shay.” She pushes the hair away from my face.
“I’m not staying. I’m getting out of here. But first I have to find Aiden.” I try to stand up slowly. It’s difficult, and my footing is very unsure.
“Aiden?” she spits. “This is about him? He’s gone. Besides, you know you’ve never really had him.”
A laugh rumbles out on my breath. “This isn’t about ‘having’ anyone. This is about caring about him and wanting to help him.”
“Help him with what? Torture himself some more? Parade yourself in front of him like you’re some kind of prize?”
“Help him get out of here.” I don’t like what she’s implying, and I’m not going to stay here and listen to it. I look in the water for any sign of him and start walking in the direction the river is flowing, though it’s settled down considerably.
INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) Page 18
