Serpent's Sacrifice

by Trish Heinrich

“And there’s our problem.”

  The screen door creaked open again and Uncle Logan stuck his head out. His eyes were even more bloodshot, the circles underneath more like trenches, and Alice wondered if his hair would ever stay close to his scalp again, considering how much he was running his hands through the gray curls.

  “If you’re ready, we need to leave in five minutes,” he said.

  “Why the rush?” Marco asked.

  “He’s not allowed many visitors, but I pulled some strings and got you an exception.”

  “A one-time one, right?” Lionel said, walking with long, quick strides onto the porch.

  “If you’ve come to—” Alice said, jumping up from the swing.

  “I haven’t,” Lionel said, thick arms crossed over his massive chest. “But I’m not about to let you go there without me.”

  “They won’t let you in,” Uncle Logan said.

  “Then I’ll wait outside the room or whatever,” Lionel said, his voice tinged with concern. “I just want you to feel safe. At least as safe as you can all things considered.”

  Alice felt her anger cool as she took in his words. Maybe she wasn’t the only one that kept replaying bad memories from her childhood.

  She placed a small hand on his chest and smiled. “Thank you, but I can do this.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but Alice didn’t give him the chance.

  “You can take me to Solomon’s after for a club soda.”

  Lionel looked like he wanted to fight more, but thought better of it and just nodded.

  Jet City’s prison was a mammoth pair of rectangular buildings overlooking the newly-expanded freeway on one side and the blue water of the Sound on the other. The infirmary and the cafeteria had large windows that overlooked the water and parts of the city, the views breathtaking on a clear day.

  The visitor’s area was a large square room filled with tables and chairs. On a sunny day, the outside courtyard was opened, old picnic tables available for the few people that came to see loved ones that weren’t considered high security.

  Alice would’ve much rather have had all that open space in which to see her father, instead of the cramped room she knew they were being led to. The hallway became narrow and windowless as they followed the two guards. The area they’d come from had been painted a robin’s egg blue and was strangely cheerful, but this hallway was the kind of gray that made Alice think of ash. The floor was sticky under her feet and the ceiling was discolored with occasional dark stains.

  They stopped at a glass door that looked several inches thick and was steel-reinforced. She and Uncle Logan were searched for the third time, one guard being a little more enthusiastic than she would’ve liked.

  “That’s enough,” Uncle Logan growled.

  The guards smile was cold. “You have to stay here.”

  “I was told I would be allowed to accompany my niece,” Uncle Logan said, his square face becoming stormy.

  “Sorry, that’s not what I was told. One, and only one, visitor at a time.”

  “It’s okay.” Alice forced a smile on her trembling lips. “Really.”

  Uncle Logan shot the guard a menacing glare and patted Alice’s shoulder.

  The door closed behind her with a series of clicks and the guard led her down a short corridor to a series of three doors, numbered accordingly. He unlocked door two and motioned for her to enter.

  “He’ll be here shortly.”

  And the door slammed behind her.

  She swallowed the bile in her throat and looked around the small gray room with no windows. A table with loops bolted onto it took up most of the room, and two old folding chairs sat on either side. The wall Alice faced as she stepped into the space was a mirror and she knew someone would likely be on the other side watching them.

  Her heart jumped inside her chest. She tried to get her nerves out by pacing, but it was a pointless exercise in the closet-sized room, even for her short legs. She considered sitting, but shook her head at the idea, and instead tried very hard to concentrate on her breathing.

  This was her choice, no one had manipulated her into it. She would get the information and never see him again. The loops on the table caught her eye and she realized he’d be restrained, unable to touch her. A sigh of relief for a fear she hadn’t realized she’d been holding onto escaped her full lips.

  “Are you ready?” came her uncle’s voice.

  She looked up, her laugh harsh. “You behind the funny mirror?”

  “I called in another favor.”

  Taking one more deep breath, she nodded.

  When Alice had been a child, her father had seemed to loom over her, giant and frightening. She still had nightmares about his bloodshot eyes burning into her, and his rasping voice screaming at her. To this day, the smell of beer turned her stomach.

  But when the side door opened, and a guard escorted a prisoner clad in an orange jumpsuit, chains connecting his wrists and ankles, Alice felt shock outweigh her fear.

  He was only a few inches taller than her, but much stockier. His hair, which she remembered being wild and greasy, was cut so close to his round head that he looked almost bald. A scar that looked like a brand of some kind was on one cheek, while a jagged line ran from his hairline down to his left eyebrow. He could only shuffle into the room, and he kept his gaze down as the guard shoved him into the chair and locked his wrist chains into the loops on the table.

  Alice dug her nails into her palm, tensing her calves to keep her body from shaking. Once the guard had left, Douglas Seymour, her father, lifted his face, a half smile on his fat lips.

  “Hello, Alice.” His voice was the same and Alice felt her stomach roil.

  Get a grip! You’re not a child anymore, and he can’t hurt you. You’re strong and he’s weak.

  Another deep breath and she relaxed her hands, letting the fingers uncurl.

  “Mr. Seymour,” she said, pleasantly surprised at how steady her voice was. “I understand you have information for my uncle regarding his—”

  “You look like your mother,” he said, his smile widening. “Same eyes, same nose.”

  Her breath caught and she had to force the words past her throat. “Regarding his investigation—”

  “His vendetta now, don’t you mean?” His smile widened to show yellowed teeth.

  Something cracked inside of Alice, like an egg falling off a kitchen counter. She leaned on the table, a strong lye soap smell stinging her nose. Despite how her heart hammered in her chest, Alice made herself meet Douglas’ smug gaze.

  “If you are responsible for my aunt’s murder—”

  “How could I do that from in here?”

  “You’re keeping us from finding the man responsible by not giving us information.”

  “Us? Are you helping your uncle now?”

  Alice stepped back, realizing her blunder. She hadn’t wanted him to know she was invested in this so much, or that she was helping Uncle Logan in any way beyond this visit.

  His small green eyes squinted up at her, and he leaned forward now, clasping his hands together.

  “I always thought you had a little too much of your aunt in you. I guess I was right.”

  “What information do you have?”

  His eyes studied her, as if he were trying to unwrap every secret she had. Alice held his gaze, crossing her arms over her chest, and ignoring the way her stomach tightened.

  “I will tell you where to find Jamison,” he said at last. “But that’s only the beginning. There’s two more of them, you know. And I will help you find the other two, if you are the one to come visit me. I won’t tell that idiot uncle of yours anything anymore.”

  “That won’t be possible, the prison—”

  “Will change my visitor list, if I want them to.”

  “And how will you manage that?”

  “I’ll ask nicely.”

  The desire to hit him was overwhelming and she was just barely able to contain it. He’d gott
en what he wanted out of this more than she had and now he was going to keep getting it, because Douglas knew how important his information was and what she’d do to get it. She’d thought her escape from him was permanent and he’d barged into her world again.

  Only this time, she wasn’t helpless. Yes, he had a lot of power over her with the information he was hoarding. But, she had power, too. The power not to be affected by him, to not let him make her his victim ever again.

  Alice forced herself to smile. “Talk.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lionel groaned into his hands.

  “You can heal in minutes, jump three flights into the air, and are basically the strongest man alive, and you’re seasick?” Marco said.

  “Leave me alone,” Lionel moaned.

  Alice couldn’t help but grin, even if they were about to attack an isolated mansion on a small island off the coast of Jet City.

  Her father’s information had been oddly precise. He knew the Island, what the house looked like, how many guards Jamison was likely to have, even how long he’d probably be there. When she’d questioned the accuracy of this information, he’d shrugged and said, in a terribly nonchalant tone, that he’d been liked by the leadership and trusted.

  For the hundredth time, Alice wondered why no one in the syndicate had taken him out in prison if he knew so much information. The fact that no one had even tried made Alice deeply suspicious that someone, somewhere, was playing a deeper game than any of them knew.

  “Are we almost there?” Lionel moaned.

  “Kana Island takes an hour to get to,” Marco said, as Lionel rushed to the side of the boat and emptied his stomach, “and we’ve got a half-hour more.”

  Alice rubbed Lionel’s arm after he plopped down onto the deck.

  “Best to leave him,” Marco said. “He’ll lay down in a minute and maybe doze off.”

  Alice could swear Lionel was turning green, but stood up anyway as he curled into a large ball.

  The air was brisk and tangy with salt as their small boat clipped along at a good speed. Jet City was no longer visible behind them and the Island wasn’t yet visible in front of them. All around, the dark water spread out like a great living swath of black silk. Clouds obscured the mostly full moon overhead and the rain that had been threatening all day hadn’t yet shown up.

  Marco led her to the back of the boat where the wind was less fierce.

  “Tell me again.”

  Alice took a deep breath. “Jamison has a private dock for small craft, it’s at the southern end of the island, away from the tourist traps to the north. If we go less than a quarter-mile from the dock into the woods, his cabin should be there.”

  “A cabin, or mansion?”

  “Douglas said it was a cross between the two. The locals had been angry when he built it, but relieved it wasn’t near the tourist shops. He only has half a dozen guards.”

  She could see Marco studying her out of the corner of her eye. After a moment, he leaned on the railing of the boat.

  “You call him Douglas now.”

  “He’s not my father, not really. Why should I call him that?”

  “No reason. I just...I worry he’s going to keep feeding you bits and pieces, just to keep you on the hook.”

  Alice sighed. She’d had the same fears.

  “Well then, we’d better get rid of the syndicate as fast as possible.”

  “Isn’t that up to him?”

  “No. The way I see it, we take down Jamison, get him to plea bargain, and then go after the other two.”

  Marco smiled. “Not a bad plan.”

  “Thanks.”

  They stood in silence for a while, their bodies inches from each other. Marco kept folding and unfolding his long hands, until finally, he shoved them into his pockets and leaned with his back against the rail. Alice was pleasantly surprised at how warm her suit was, but realized that Marco was in normal clothes with a long coat thrown over it. His shoulders were hunched up to his red ears, and his nose was pink.

  “You’re cold,” she said. “You wanna go inside?”

  Marco shook his head. “We’re almost there.”

  As if on cue, the boat began to slow. The pilot, a young man with a doughy face and bad teeth, came out of the small cabin.

  “We gotta go as quiet as possible or it’ll alert the man you’re trying to get.”

  “Are we going to have to swim?” Alice asked.

  “Naw, which is good, ‘cause your friend looks like he can barely stand.”

  Marco was trying to hide a grin with his hand and went to the front of the boat. Sure enough, Lionel had fallen asleep and was now cursing at Marco for waking him up.

  “You know where to meet us?” Alice asked the pilot.

  “Yeah, but are you sure? It’s a bit of a hike.”

  “The police can’t find us here.” She gave him an envelope with crisp bills in it. “Understand? We land, and you go to Manchester, you know where that is? Halfway between here and the tourist town. You wait there, and then you’ll get the rest.”

  The pilot thumbed through the bills, his small eyes lighting up with greed. If he hadn’t been vetted by Detective Garrick, Alice would’ve sworn he was dirty somehow.

  Maybe he is. I don’t think all of Garrick’s contacts have the cleanest records.

  She shook off her worries as they landed near a small dock. There was a pristine sail boat tied up and two deck chairs, with a fishing pole propped up between them, sat on the dock. A red paddle-boat was tucked up on the small beach. It was a quaint scene, almost peaceful.

  Alice looked into the woods before them, noting that the muted light of the moon made the trees look much denser than they were. The baritone croaking of hundreds of frogs, accompanied by the harsher sound of crickets brought to mind all the camping trips she’d taken with Aunt Diana and Uncle Logan.

  Alice took a deep breath and smelled the faint odor of wood smoke behind the salt of the water.

  A now familiar pang went off in her chest, but she forced it away. She had to focus. There was no room for another miss. This time, they had to get Jamison.

  Lionel was the first off the boat, his long legs splashing in the shallows. Alice almost expected him to kiss the ground, but instead, he halted just at the tree line, hands on his knees as if he were trying to steady himself.

  I hope he’s going to be alright for this.

  Marco helped Alice off the boat and by the time they’d made it to Lionel, he was standing upright and taking deep breaths.

  “Okay, everyone ready?” he asked, as if he didn’t just spend an hour vomiting off the side of a boat.

  Alice grinned. “After you, sailor.”

  He shot her a scowl over his shoulder before leading them into the woods.

  Behind her, she could hear the small boat leaving, just before the forest swallowed them up. A well-worn path presented itself, but Alice was still careful to watch her step, a twisted ankle wouldn’t be the best thing. And though Douglas had assured them that no guards would be in the forest, the three of them kept careful watch on the dark foliage around them.

  An owl hooted somewhere nearby and Marco jumped, his hands springing out before him. Alice saw a hint of shadows from his fingers, and then they disappeared.

  “You never camp before?” she whispered.

  Marco shook his head. “Dad wasn’t much for it. I’ve never really liked the woods.”

  Lionel stopped and motioned up ahead.

  “I see some lights. My guess is this path probably leads to the front of the house, so Marco and I will stay on that while you circle around back.”

  Alice nodded. “Meet at the stairs.”

  Even though Lionel had made a plan that was meant to keep Alice out of the fighting, as much as possible, she knew that there was a chance that Jamison would hear the attack and flee.

  That would mean she’d be the first one he saw.

  Alice checked the darts in her gloves, reconciled to th
e fact that it might be the best way to take him down.

  The house was up a small incline, surrounded by low shrubs and fallen tree branches. As she got closer, Alice could see why the local people might hate the house. It was an enormous A-frame cabin with a wide wrap-around porch, and instead of the usual rustic look of such houses, this one was painted gray and white, with red shutters and doors. The eaves were scalloped as well, reminding Alice of a garish ski lodge. An expensive European car was parked outside a garage that was large enough to hold at least three more cars. Bright lights illuminated the house and the large front drive, plus some of the surrounding forest. There was nowhere for any of them to hide, and if anyone was keeping watch at one of the top windows, this would get ugly fast.

  A surprised cry behind her told Alice that Marco and Lionel had started their attack. Speeding up now, not caring if she was seen, Alice scrambled up to the back of the house.

  Just as she reached the foot of the stairs, a short broad man barreled out of the house.

  It wasn’t Jamison. It was one of his guards. He paused, which was enough for Alice race up the stairs and land a solid punch to the man’s face. She then used the momentum to turn and elbow him solidly in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. The shock of the attack made him press the trigger he’d had a finger on, shooting a hole in the deck inches from her feet.

  Alice stomped on his instep, and then delivered an elbow to his groin. While he was bent over in pain she drove her knee up into his face, and the man finally went down.

  She ran through the back door and into a kitchen that was almost as big as the loft above Atlas Books. Boots tramped nearby accompanied by gasps and thumps.

  Peeking out of the kitchen door to make sure she wasn’t going to be surprised by anyone else, Alice ran down a hallway that let out behind the wide stair case.

  She arrived just as Lionel punched a guard, who then fell limp to the ground. Lionel bent down, and at first Alice assumed he was checking the man for weapons, but instead, he grabbed the man’s wrist. After a moment, Lionel gave a sigh of relief.

  I never thought of how easy it must be for him to kill a man without meaning to.