Prophecy of Blood: A Supernatural Psychic Thriller (WRAITH HUNTER CHRONICLES Book 2)

by John R. Monteith

  He needed to back off before he infuriated her. He looked to his father. “I’m asking all the questions. I don’t mean to monopolize our time.”

  The elder hunter shrugged. “You’re doing fine, lad. I’ll stop you if I dislike your demeanor.”

  Liam continued, probing for her intent. “Okay, let’s assume you’re correct in interpreting everything you’ve seen. What’s the mission? Are we supposed to rescue these women?”

  “No. Aren’t you listening? You need to get me in with those Iraqi girls and have me sold at auction.”

  The concept unnerved him. “I wasn’t sure if there was an interim step.”

  “There isn’t. I’ll break it down for you. I’ll tell you where the truck will be, and when. I don’t know anything about ambushing trucks, but I know it’s a good spot. You do that and get me into the back of the truck with the other women.”

  Liam raised his eyebrows. “Then what?”

  “Then the traffickers take me to wherever the auction is, you follow, and you find the wraith. Yulla. Why are you overthinking this?”

  “Because it’s my job to keep you alive.” As his words replayed in his head, he realized the problem. Keeping her alive was no longer his job. His mission was killing a killer, and the enchanting empath was expendable per his new purpose.

  Her eyes became dilated darkness again, but then she closed them.

  “Dianne?”

  Connor tapped the young hunter’s arm. “Let her concentrate.”

  “Yes, Father.” Moments later, he felt an invading presence crawling through his mind.

  With her lips closed, the empath spoke to his inner ear with a clear voice. “Hello, Liam.”

  His vision narrowed, and the real world’s sounds became muted as he responded within his mind. “Are you seriously doing this?”

  “Yep. It’s me. I’m in your head.”

  “Why are you bothering when you’re sitting right across from me?”

  “Call it a demonstration.”

  Against his will, his hand rose from the table and approached his face. The dull throb of the healing bone under his cast offered a connected focus to the real world, heightening his awareness. “What are you trying to do?”

  “You’ll see. Or rather, you’ll feel.”

  “I might go along with this out of curiosity.”

  “You might go along with this because you can’t stop me.”

  As his hand approached his chin, his index finger angled upward. “Bloody hell, woman. Are you trying to make me pick my nose?”

  Her metaphysical voice became giggly. “Yep.”

  “The hell you will.” He showered a torrent of resistance at her, concentrating on his dignity, his self-respect, and his desire to remain a pure knight.

  Even in his head, he heard her grunting as she strained.

  “Get out, witch!”

  She left his mind and opened her eyes. “Who are you calling ‘witch’?”

  The three onlookers stared at the supernatural duelers with wide eyes. Even Josh took note.

  Liam glared at her “What the heck was that for?”

  “I was showing you what I could do.”

  Impressed with both her invasion and his defense, he concealed his mixed emotions about her demonstration. “That’s fine. I think it’s great that you’re learning how to use your dagger, but I don’t think you can count on having it available if you’re being sold as a sex slave.”

  She smirked as she lifted her hand from her purse and interlaced her fingers on the table. Then, with her mouth motionless, she spoke into his mind. “Maybe I need my dagger for some tricks, smartass. But I can still get into your head without it, and you’re coming up with a plan to get me on the inside.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Liam waited until a private moment with Dianne to challenge her desires. During a stroll through the Sultanahmet Meydani public square, he noticed his father talking to Nana by a hand-carried candy cart, Josh walking with a tablet in his face–likely reading about the location he was ignoring, and Dianne capturing photographs on her phone.

  He marched up to her. “Was that for real about wanting to be bait?”

  She lowered her phone and scowled. “I thought I made that perfectly clear.”

  “You did. But we were having, you know, a moment. I thought maybe you got caught up in it.”

  “No, I don’t know. What sort of moment?”

  “You were in my bloody head before I pushed you out.”

  She raised her voice. “Before you pushed me out, huh? I remember getting back in pretty easily, and without my dagger.”

  He put his finger to his lips. “Quiet. We’re talking about things better kept secret.”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t talk at all.” She sauntered away down the inclined and curved walking path leading to the Blue Mosque.

  Shoeless, and with headscarves around the women, Liam followed his father into the center floor of the mosque. The high ceilings, arching windows, and vertical lines of stone reminded him of mankind’s aspirations to send its lofty spirit upward to the divine.

  Respecting the place of worship, he remained quiet as he strolled about the holy ground in deep contemplation.

  Seeking a better solution than Dianne’s volunteered concept of disappearing into a criminal underground, he ran scenarios through his mind.

  Rebooting his thought process by attempting to recreate the success he’d experienced in Michigan, he considered aerial surveillance, but his attempts to realize the idea had fluttered and died for piecemeal views and an overabundance of white vans in the metropolitan area.

  In Michigan, he’d also used a systemic approach to filter a list of possible properties where the final sacrifice would happen. He assumed the incinerator of Dianne’s vision implied a long-term stay in the building, suggesting the wraith’s lair. But she’d seen so little in her vision beyond a concrete floor and a drain. It could be any factory, any warehouse, or the basement of any commercial building. With the city’s recent rise in construction over the decade, the possibilities were daunting.

  Remaining in deep thought, he found his shoes, put them on, and followed his father out the mosque’s exit. Thinking instead of observing his world, he bumped into Josh and noted the irony of his paying less attention to his surroundings than the autistic young man. “Sorry, buddy.”

  Josh looked away from his tablet and towards the busy water traffic covering the strait that separated Europe from Asia. “It’s okay.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “It’s a book about the Blue Mosque.”

  Liam could only smile.

  “Your dad said you have a new book of prophecy from the hunters you replaced.”

  “That’s true. I haven’t seen it yet, although our order supposedly has read it for us and found nothing tactically useful.”

  “I want to see it.”

  Liam nodded. “You know, given your track record, I think that’s a fair request. I’ll ask Father right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  The sun bathed the city and its swarm of tourists with warmth, but Liam’s heart remained cold as he walked to the elder hunter. “Father, Josh would like a copy of our new book.”

  “I expected he’d ask. I’ve already ordered a copy.”

  “Really?”

  “You must think I sleepwalk through our work, lad, but I assure you I do my best to pay attention. That young man craves the written word.”

  “Thank you, Father, but what do you mean by having ordered a copy? Can’t they just email it?”

  “It will be hand-delivered tomorrow in an encrypted format to run on Josh’s tablet and one of your laptops only.”

  “Wow. Cool. Thanks.” The promised delivery did little to lift the young hunter’s spirits, but he appreciated the teamwork. Teamwork had allowed his success in Michigan, and he wondered if he’d forgotten that vital fact.

  As his team strolled towards their next site, the Hagia
Sophia, thoughts continued to bombard him.

  In Michigan, he’d predicted Dianne’s victim’s appearance in Detroit by studying his pattern. But this wraith’s compressed lunar cycle left little opportunity for forecasting. In contrast, the Istanbul wraith’s geographic limits were tight, and Liam suspected he was already within fifty kilometers of a prey being confined closer and close to the site of his sacrifice.

  Could he set up a fast-reaction tactic to pinpoint the wraith when he killed his three tributes under the next full moon? With his financing support, he could lease a helicopter and pilot for the day, and he could arrange for a rapid response the moment his dagger sensed the first of the three homicides.

  It was an idea worth considering, but he tucked it away as undesirable for failing to save three lives. And Dianne wanted to become bait before it could happen.

  Contemplating her new powers, he wondered if she could force herself to have new visions. If she could see the wraith’s past again or his present activities, she could bring home new clues. She’d learned to do it in Michigan, with ultimate success.

  With her dagger, she had a new power to move beyond sensing and into control. When she’d moved the young hunter’s hand to make him pick his own nose, she’d demonstrated a new level of abilities. Though she giggled through it, he saw it as a grave matter.

  Why couldn’t she simply invade the wraith’s mind, make him write down his address, and then shoot himself? He had to ask her, but she seemed hesitant to talk about her experience through the man’s senses.

  To him, it was such simple logic. Invade the wraith ruthlessly until she overcame him or gathered enough clues to find him. But emotions and intuition governed the game instead of logic, and overextending herself in Michigan had sent Dianne into supernatural slumbers lasting up to eleven days.

  There was danger in asking her to risk that again.

  Remembering her connection with her Michigan victim’s tributes, he tried to outline new connections. She’d seen the world through the terrified women’s eyes moments before their death, and she’d helped save one of them. But there were no clues to be gathered from this ability other than helping Liam track the wraith after his next homicide.

  The sprawling, ancient former Eastern Orthodox cathedral of Byzantine architecture loomed ahead as he caught up to the empath. “Can I have a moment, Dianne?”

  She raised her nose. “Only if you come in peace.”

  “I come in peace.”

  “Go ahead, then.”

  She was right. The best available plan was her idea of getting to the wraith from the inside. That’s how they’d teamed up to defeat her prior victim, but he needed her help overcoming his objections. “I’m warming up to your idea.”

  “Great. Now that’s got me scared.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve spent so much time thinking about it that you’ve got me convinced that it’s stupid.”

  “No, I just wanted to think about every other possibility before committing to it.”

  “Well, have you thought of every other possibility?”

  “I have, but I’d like to rule out one other option before we commit to your idea.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “No, it’s not like that. I really think we’ll end up ruling it out, together.”

  “Fine. Spit it out.”

  He sensed her closing him out. “Only if you’ll listen.”

  “I said I’ll listen.”

  Sensing he was requesting a slap in the face–or worse, he risked his question. “Have you considered gathering more information from him to find him, or even an outright attack against him like you did against me when you tried to make me… you know.”

  “Pick your nose.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s like me asking you if you’ve been thinking about ways to burn in hell forever. Does that sound like a logical request?”

  “No, but… fine.” He accepted his need to support her, and he felt silly for apparently being the last person on the team to reach the conclusion.

  She raised her voice. “That doesn’t sound like it’s fine. It sounds like you don’t believe how hard it was to see what I saw, to feel what I felt.”

  “I’m sorry, and this time I truly am. I have no idea how hard it is because you looked so damned peaceful and beautiful while you were entranced.”

  She blushed. “Flattery won’t work.”

  “Sorry, for real again. Now I’m embarrassed.”

  “You can be really awkward, sometimes.”

  “I don’t deny it.”

  Careful to avoid the cast on his humerus, she stopped walking and grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t you think I’d be swimming in his head if I knew how to get back in?”

  “Well, actually, I don’t know. Not if it hurts as much as you say.”

  “I would, to save people. To save everyone. I don’t know if I’m that strong, but I have to hope so. I have to believe I can find a way.”

  Her strength heightened his desire for her, and his guardian angel protecting him from romantic flames was proving ineffective. “I admire your resolve.”

  “Good. Then stop worrying about me and help me put a stop to this sickening monster.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Edric entered the cell of the next tribute for his Master, the tall and thin Syrian woman he’d won in a two-bidder competition.

  She lay on her cot and appeared lethargic, lifting her head as his boots clapped the concrete floor. Lacking sufficient caloric intake, she’d become gaunt, and her stench of body odor and grime filled the room.

  Stooping, he placed a two-liter bottle of water in the corner and then balanced atop it the loaf of bread he’d carried under his arm.

  “How long’s that supposed to last me?”

  Infuriated by the insolence of her questioning, he stepped towards her with his backhand raised, but the power of his overseeing spirit stayed his strike. He answered as he tugged her restraints to verify the integrity of the handcuffs around her wrists, the leg irons at her ankles, and the tether to the concrete. “Three days.”

  “Bread and water to last me three days?”

  He reached into his pocket for his Taser and jabbed it into her chest. She convulsed in helplessness, and he watched her until she regained control of her lungs. Since the attack kept her alive and unspoiled, his Master allowed the electronic shock.

  “You’re a monster!”

  Turning, he left her complaint unanswered as he walked out and latched the door behind him. He needed to torment her as much as his domineering spirit allowed, to feed his craving for playing god that intensified daily.

  The impunity he’d enjoyed a century earlier taunted him while in the small warehouse he hid from society’s laws and cowered before his Master’s rules on his disposition of victims. Waiting to take the lives of handfuls of women wore down his patience.

  He hoped his long life would bring him to new era in which he could again massacre masses. The repeating themes in human history suggested such a time would return.

  Petty punishments of his captives provided minor abatement of the frustration, and he desired better. He needed more.

  He lifted his phone to text his flesh peddler.

  Expecting his overseeing spirit’s veto, he hesitated, but the denial never came. He tapped in a request for a meeting, sent it, and glued his eyes to the screen. Moments later, the response arrived with an invitation to talk in three hours.

  As he drove his van through tight traffic, the wraith feared his domineering spirit would stop his quest. But the whimsical spirit seemed to permit killing for sport today.

  After reaching the bar, parking in its gated lot, and passing through a security frisking, he sat alone in a booth. The space he knew as an auction floor had become a backroom strip club with leering men and exposed female flesh.

  He’d hardly noticed the two poles on the stage, to which upside down women clung with the strength of their legs.<
br />
  A lady wearing lingerie approached him. “Can I take your order? A drink and perhaps something from the kitchen?”

  Avoiding alcohol for its undermining of his self-control, he picked something benign. “Mineral water.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  He dismissed her with a wave.

  A wiggling body moved towards him seeking eye contact and money in exchange for a personal dance, but he shooed her away.

  Five minutes later, his waitress returned with his water and a complementary bowl of mixed nuts.

  Nibbling a cashew, he watched another dancer approach him for service, and he scowled. When his waitress next saw him, he waved her over.

  She arrived. “Ready to order some food?”

  He leaned towards her. “I’ve got a four o’clock meeting with the owner. He’s already five minutes late. Check what’s delaying him.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Across the room, a drunk man groped for a dancer’s panties, causing her to smack his hand and recoil. Two attentive, suited mountains of muscle appeared from a dark corner, and one guard put the offender’s hand into a joint lock while the other addressed him with harsh language. The wristlock shifted behind the drunkard’s back as the guards escorted him from the premises.

  The few patrons who’d paid attention to the eviction returned their eyes to their drinks and the strippers, and the sea of sexual arousal and men ogling their fantasies annoyed the wraith.

  When the waitress brought him a second bottle of water, he suspected a further delay. “The owner’s running late. He sends his apologies and says you can order anything you want on the house. Can I get you a menu?”

  Running late. How dare the flesh peddler abuse his power of position. Edric had killed people for less annoying infractions, and he found his dependency on a mortal disgusting. “Did he say when he’d see me?”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “Bring me a damned menu, then.”

  One hundred years of compounding interest had created a nest egg for his basic essentials, but this year was demonstrating a greater need to generate a larger fortune for the purpose of controlling people. This demeaning humiliation of asking for meetings, waiting for a man who considered himself powerful, scrapping for women to kill… it had to end.