“That’s for killing my good friend DeShawn Hill.”
More laughing. Emily was having the time of her sixth life. “This is so much better than American Ghost Stories. And now your precious little bed and breakfast is on fire. This has been by far and away our best life. But wait. The best is yet to come.”
Chloe sauntered around the table and sat on Raymond’s back. As if it had a will of its own, a ten inch butcher’s knife struggled to free itself from his back. It pulled out with a sickening slurping sound.
Debbie flew into a fury of flying fists and feet. An elbow found Kowalski’s chin. She scratched and bit and clawed at him. They spun in place, Debbie battling to break free and Kowalski trying to restrain her.
“How’s it going over there, partner? She’s just a girl. Sheeesh. You have one cuff on her. Slap on the other and take her outside.”
Darrowby returned to Bob, knocking him back down the stairs a third time.
The crimson stained knife rose and hovered five feet off the ground. Chloe licked her right paw and pointed to the center of Kowalski’s back. The projectile hurtled across the room and embedded itself into its new host.
Debbie felt his grip on her loosen. He stumbled forward and laid his hand on Darrowby’s shoulder. Kowalski blinked a few times and sputtered out his last words.
“Damndest. Thing. Darrowby. You won’t believe it.”
“Yeah? What is it? A cat attack you?”
Kowalski dropped in a heap. Darrowby reached down, pulled the knife out and rolled his partner over. He kept his eyes on Debbie as he felt for a pulse on Kowalski’s neck and wrist.
Nothing.
The look in Darrowby’s eyes glaring up at her. Emily sitting on the kitchen table with Chloe, Rebecca and Esther, watching as if this was their favorite TV sitcom. Bob unconscious in the basement. Three corpses on the kitchen floor. Half of Murcat Manor blown to bits. Smoke rolling into the kitchen. Emily’s taunting laugh echoing in her head. What to do?
Debbie gauged the path to the back door. If she sprinted fast enough, she just might make it.
Chapter 61 Grand Finale
With one fluid movement, Darrowby stepped in front of Debbie and assumed a linebacker’s upright stance, ready to blitz. The detective’s unblinking eyes revealed a state of concentration so intense he could pile-drive Debbie through the floor like a pneumatic hammer drill.
“You crazy treacherous freak. First you kill DeShawn Hill, who I’ve known since we were kids. Now you murder my best friend and partner with a knife—in the back, no less. You’re nothing but a crazed coward. You deserve to die with your husband. Wait, hang that thought. I’ll torch what’s left of this place with you in it.”
Debbie tried to retreat, her hands up and out. “No, wait. That’s not what happened.”
Darrowby looked at the four cats sitting on the table. “It was the cats, right?”
“Yes, I—no, but—wait, you don—”
Darrowby snared a fistful of Debbie’s hair and pulled her head back, shoving his gun under her chin. “Go ahead. Say it was the damn cats. Say it. I dare you.”
Debbie understood she had lost everything. Bob. Her grandparents. Murcat Manor. Her future of raising a family of four kids. There was nothing she could do to bring back any of her lifelong dreams.
But Debbie Elaine Stevens held on to the one thing no one could take away from her. She still held the truth in her heart. She would not to succumb to Emily’s manipulative madness. Regardless of Darrowby’s handgun shoved against the underside of her chin, Emily Livingston was the real enemy. Darrowby, he was no more than an inept, stupid pawn caught up in her sadistic game.
Too bad, Debbie thought, Emily didn’t deem Darrowby worthy of hearing her voice. That would make her life so much easier.
Debbie, her head cranked back and locked against her shoulders, rolled her eyes to meet Darrowby. “Sorry for Kowalski. But I didn’t kill him.”
“You should die here tonight with your homicidal husband. I should toss you down in the basement with him and let the house burn down and collapse on you.”
Darrowby spun Debbie against the wall. He kicked her feet apart, almost causing her to fall. He pulled up the back of her shirt and hauled the Ruger SR9 9mm semi-automatic handgun out from her belt.
“What’s this? This meant for me?”
“No.”
“Always walk around your burning house with a shotgun and handgun, do you?”
“No. I swear. It’s not like that.”
“And what do we have here? A dagger, it seems? Hmm, almost missed that. You could do a lot of damage with this baby.”
Debbie wanted to puke as he pawed her all over, feeling for more weapons. He found the serrated hunting knife strapped to her ankle and yanked it out.
“You’re a real sicko. Worst I’ve ever seen.” Darrowby threw the Ruger and knives through the archway and into the burning living room.
Emily continued to laugh. “Weeeee win. As soon as Darrowby opens the back door to take you to a waiting patrol car, we’ll also leave. Ha! He won’t care if we also run outside.”
Debbie looked on as the cats sat on her table and stared. Their tails rose in the air and wagged back and forth in unison. This was entertainment in its best form to them.
Rebecca got up and ran in a small circle. As she sped up, a small fire came to life in the center. Two streams jumped to the kitchen curtains and whisked onto the walls.
Emily’s voice resonated in Debbie’s head. “Rebecca says one more fire for the road. A parting gift. From us to you.”
Debbie turned and stepped into Darrowby. She shoved both her arms under his right armpit and swept him off her. He stumbled but recovered and snared Debbie by the waist, picking her up. She was parallel to the floor, her legs stretched out and kicking wildly in the air.
Debbie Elaine Stevens took one final look at the cats. “No way, Emily. This is still my house. My kitchen. My domain. And I’m going to prove it right now.”
With one swift move she reached around Darrowby’s waist and unclipped his gun belt. She seized his semi-automatic handgun and aimed it at the cats. Safety off, she unloaded.
One round.
Two rounds.
The foursome ran in a panic.
Three rounds.
Rebecca was hit and flipped backward and off the table.
Four rounds.
Five rounds.
Six rounds.
Chloe took two hits and crumpled on the table.
Seven rounds.
Esther flattened out like a punctured balloon.
Debbie aimed at Emily and fired off two more rounds before Darrowby ripped his gun from her hand.
Emily leapt off the table. The flames from what was left of the living room invaded the kitchen. She stepped toward the back door.
As Darrowby pinned Debbie to the floor with his knee in the small of her back, she saw terror in Emily. The high priestess of her feline clan was confused. She was now alone.
Debbie grinned. “That’s it, Emily. You lose. All your friends are dead. And I get the sense you don’t want to be here by yourself.”
Darrowby shouted in her ear. “Stop talking to the cats, you insane freak.”
Debbie winced as Darrowby slapped the cuffs on her other wrist far too tight. The slowing of circulation made her hands numb.
“Bob. Please, you have to help him. Let me die. But for the love of God, let my Bob live.”
Darrowby pulled Debbie to her feet. “Not a chance. I’m getting out of here now. This hellhole is coming down in a pile of smoldering rubble.”
As Darrowby said this, the rest of the upstairs and what remained of the living room caved in. Debris, fire, and heat exploded into the kitchen.
“Let me try to save Bob. At least give me that.”
“Not a chance. Much as I despise the thought, I do need at least one of you alive. You know, for the media and publicity. A trial of this magnitude will attract nationwide media att
ention. And guess who’ll be answering their questions? Me.”
Debbie dropped to her knees and screamed out, “Bob. Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“He’s not getting up from that last fall down the stairs. Now let’s go.”
“Bob.”
Darrowby shoved Debbie forward. Pain shot up her arms toward her shoulders. By the back door, Emily sat, staring at Debbie. She clapped her paws.
“Bravo. Well done. You certainly are an opponent worthy of congratulating. I give you that. But you have to understand this escapade will end on my terms. I can’t allow you or that moron Darrowby to leave. So I’m taking all three of us out.”
Debbie struggled to gain her balance. “No, Emily. You can’t do that.”
“Shut up,” Darrowby shouted, balling her shirt in one hand and pulling her into him. They were nose to nose. He pointed back at the lone surviving cat. “That’s just a dumb. Stupid. Cat.”
“Oh, dumb and stupid, am I? Nobody calls me that and lives.”
Darrowby tensed as he loosened his grip on Debbie and stared back at Emily. Debbie knew she was talking to him as well.
“I get the last laugh. I can’t allow you to escape. That would mean you won.”
Debbie saw Darrowby’s stunned eyes as he leaned toward Emily. He started to take a step toward the cat, but stopped, looked back at Debbie, then again to Emily.
“What the hell?”
Emily continued, sitting calmly and staring carefree at Debbie. “And you’re right. I don’t want to be in this world alone. But I have the solution to both. Directly below me are two gas leaks in the basement, compliments of your grandmother Erma. I need to set them off now as I feel Esther’s powers leaving me.”
“Don’t do it.”
Darrowby started to backpedal as the black and white spotted cat raised a paw and waved. “We’ll be back. All thirteen of us. We still have three more lives. Too bad the same can’t be said about you and Detective Dickhead. Good bye, Debbie.”
Emily closed her eyes and tightened her shoulders. A giant explosion erupted from the basement. The wooden floor lifted with the eruption of smoke and fire. Large and small chunks of wood exploded across the kitchen.
A large plank spun through the air and hit Debbie in the head. Her world was shutting off. She realized she was on her back. Darrowby lay on top of her, motionless.
Looking up, flames danced to the smoke rolling across the ceiling. The sight, sound, and smell of Murcat Manor burning was terrible. Part of the ceiling above the kitchen gave way and crumpled in flames to the floor. A rafter crashed next to her head.
Debbie’s last thoughts were of Bob.
I love you. I’m sorry I failed you, my dearest.
Now, sweet Jesus Almighty, receive us. We’re coming home.
Chapter 62 Heaven or Hell
Debbie Steven’s world was one of isolation and sensory deprivation, where darkness and silence governed her will. She drifted aimlessly with no sense of direction, regardless of her determination to control her surroundings. A swirling sensation hindered any ability to coordinate her five senses.
She could not discern up or down. Her universe was devoid of left and right. Back and forth did not exist. Even so, she was aware, again, that she at least existed.
My name is Debbie Elaine Stevens. This much I’m sure of.
She had been aware a few times, but had soon meandered back to sleep. This time, she was stronger and determined to break through.
But her thoughts were disorganized, random and scattered. Where am I? Could I be dead? If so, which place did I end up?
Take it easy, girl. Relax. No need to hurry. Proceed at a comfortable pace. Take an accounting of what you have and go from there.
Debbie sensed the presence of someone else—or some entity—with her. A friendly kindred spirit that protected her. A veil of sorts seemed to fall from her mind, opening up the world around her just a little bit.
From this, Debbie deduced she didn’t end up in that place with Emily.
Emily.
That evil black cat with three large white spots jumped back into her memory. Debbie gasped as fear flooded in. Desperate to escape, she took a deep breath and tried to move her arms and legs as a current swept her back. She tumbled and spun, not knowing where she was or if that damned cat was in pursuit.
But the image of Emily opened the floodgates of new remembrances. Memories of people and events poured into her mind, in a scrambled cacophony of bewildering images and sounds. Ross and Erma Dempsey. Grandma turned and hissed at Emily who had tried to sneak up on them, causing that malicious cat to turn and run so fast she was no longer in Debbie’s world.
There they stood; an angelic duo if there ever was one, suspended against a blanket of white. Grandma smiled. Her skin was no longer horribly burned and scarred. She looked just like Debbie remembered, wearing a nice solid matching outfit of blue and white with a cute matching hat.
Grandpa, his head back as it should be, wore a brown suit with a slight plaid pattern. He held his belly and laughed. They brought her pleasure and reassurance.
Only the new perfect bodies heaven promised could explain this. Erma spoke, but only her mouth moved. Debbie knew she communicated Emily was no longer a threat. Surely she was in heaven. Another veil lifted, and she felt a little more alive.
Debbie tried to speak. But no words came out. No matter. She could wave to her beloved grandparents. Her heart jumped. She raised her arms to wave them back and forth.
One arm was free. But her left wrist was constrained. She could move it a few inches and that was all. A cold metal ring enclosed her wrist.
Strange. But at least she could feel again, although this was not what she expected. Her confusion lifted a bit more. The swirling slowed.
Grandma and Grandpa held out their loving arms to her. They called to her and extended their unconditional love with the purest smiles and laughter. Surely this was heaven. They didn’t have white feathery wings or halos. But they were here and Emily was not.
Debbie tried to wave both hands three more times. Again, her left wrist was restrained.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
What is that awful sound echoing in my ear? It’s giving me a headache.
At least she could hear now. A second sense returned, jumpstarting hope within her heart.
With two senses recovered, it was natural to go for sight. The effort to open her eyes shot a pulsating wave of pain deep into her head. After a few moments the misery subsided. Shadowy figures hovered above, blurred and blended with light.
Debbie forced her chapped lips open. The pain to move her bottom jaw was intense. Her mouth was so dry, her tongue snappy and crackly. Worst morning breath ever, she was sure. Something small, cold, and wet was placed in her mouth as she tried to speak. Crushed ice?
As her lips and tongue sprang to life, the heavenly scent of perfume infiltrated her nose. So peaceful and calming, confirming this could not be hell.
All her senses had returned, at least in part. She knew her right hand was being held and gently stroked. She rolled her head. Her hand came into view, held between to larger, darker hands.
But her left hand. She tried to lift it, but again could only raise it a few inches.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
More crushed ice was placed in her mouth. Not much, but enough to help increase her senses.
Debbie tried to speak. Only dry guttural sounds escaped.
“Shhhh. You just relax, you hear me, now?” The gentle stroking moved to her forehead.
Debbie squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them a little. She could perceive much more. But the lights, they were too bright. And the beeping noises, so loud and confusing. The pulsating pain in her head returned.
“You just let good ol’ Latasha take care of you. Stop squirming. I know you can hear me.”
Debbie blinked a few times, then looked u
p at a staring, smiling face. Dark hair. Ebony skin. Individual features still too blurry to make out. More of Debbie’s surroundings came into focus. Her senses separated. Sight and sound became distinct from each other. She took in a slow deep gulp of air that made her dizzy. She almost passed out.
“There, there now. You just rest up, child.”
No. This can’t be. I’m in a hospital. And that’s a nurse looming over me.
Grandma and Grandpa, still smiling and laughing, disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the wind.
Debbie tried to move her left arm again.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
That noise is driving me crazy.
“Now don’t you go and try something foolish, Mrs. Stevens. You shouldn’t try and move, or I’ll have to give you something to put you right back to sleep. You hear me?”
Debbie closed her eyes. She needed to relax and let things come to her.
Bob.
Images of her soul mate came once, twice, then overwhelmed her. She wept. But the nurse saying she would give something to put her back to sleep caused Debbie to gather the strength to stop, if only for a few moments.
Debbie needed answers. She composed herself, and muttered a word. It came out before realizing that’s what she needed.
“Ice.”
“You just rest, honey child.”
“Ice. Please.”
More crushed ice was placed between her lips. It melted and flowed across her tongue. So refreshing. She was now able to speak more words.
“Bob. Where is my Bob?”
Debbie clenched her fists and flailed her wrists. One hand was free. Her left, still bound.
“Now you listen up and stop this foolishness right now or I’ll put you down for your own good. I’m not messing around. Understand?”
Debbie relaxed and nodded her head. She focused her eyes on a middle aged African American woman, somewhat heavy with age, and gray roots shooting off a dark Afro in every direction.
“Okay. Now I have your attention. You seem to be coming around pretty good. So allow me to give you a brief rundown. Your name is Debbie Elaine Stevens. Do you understand?”
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