She’d never seen Smythe so alive. His face practically glowed with confidence. There had never been a feeling of evil, no auras she thought she should avoid, until now. He’d kept himself subdued somehow blocking what little instincts she had about people. Not even when he’d kissed her, had she suspected his true nature. Now it came through like velvet, covering the world around him in a power she’d never felt before.
“You’re a monster.”
“Don’t sound so noble. Haven’t you wondered why half the police force hates you? Even Ryan wanted you dead. I did that you stupid whore. I can make everything in your life hell.” He came closer, and she backed towards the street. “This is your last chance to join me of your own free will.” He grinned and it reminded her of a shark. “I want to secure my position and I can do that by breeding with you. Join me.”
“Never.”
Smythe continued speaking but this time his words sounded strange, not English, something exotic that she couldn’t place. The air charged around her, dancing over her skin like needles. She looked down and saw a design in chalk, written on her driveway. She hadn’t seen it when she parked.
He’s trying to trap you like he had Tamara. He wants you.
The thoughts came on some sort of counter spell but Deirdre ignored the flood of dark arts that she never wanted or understood. There was only one way she’d handle this and if that got her shot, so be it.
The gun stayed on her, preventing her from moving. Then out of the darkness came Snowball. Her white fur flashed as she sunk her claws into Smythe’s leg. He howled, forcing him to point the gun down while dealing with the tiny attacker. This was her chance. She came forward, closing the distance. Snowball ran from Smythe’s legs.
“I won’t go back to that life.”
She aimed a side kick to his chest. Something was wrong. All at once it felt like she was moving in slow motion. Gravity pulled at her and the air felt like butter, slimy and hard to move through. Then there was Smythe, his mouth working in that evil chant.
He grabbed her, pushed her leg down, reached out, and grabbed her in mid air. She’d never seen anything like it. Then she was face to face with Noah. The smile she’d once found so sexy, the twinkling eyes, took on the air of the grim reaper. He looked hungry.
This is it. We’re about to be his. Try. Try to counter the spell. Don’t give up.
She wanted to scream, tell him to shut up, but nothing worked. Deirdre wasn’t even sure she was breathing. He opened his mouth, letting mist like icy breath, come out. It touched her lips, and she found that it was more than mist. This shit had weight.
Please, no.
At once, pain filled her. The touch was cold and consuming. It slid past her lips, touching something deeper inside that pulled up. Whatever he was doing, it felt like a tooth being pulled extracted, except this one had roots from her toes, to her groin, her heart and her head. Nerve endings seared and she thought she could hear parts of her being torn away. The sound reminded her of a weed being ripped from the ground. Inside, something broke loose, following that icy mist back to the owner and she knew her soul would follow soon.
A gun fired, loud, and Deirdre fell to the ground. Her knees scraped against the pavement, but the feeling on her skin had stopped. Her essence snapped back, stinging like a stretched rubber band when it popped back into place. She was either dead or out of Smythe’s reach.
For a minute she lay on the ground. Her vision filled with pin pricks of light against a black backdrop. Slowly her sight cleared bringing her driveway into focus. When she looked up, she’d expected to find Smythe readying another shot, something to send her into oblivion. Instead, he was on the ground, a perfect red dot between his open eyes.
“What the…”
“I got him.”
Deirdre rolled over and saw Ryan Farmer at the edge of her drive, still standing in the road. His car was parked near the next driveway, probably in an attempt to sneak up on the scene. He lowered his gun, holstering it and continued up with his hands raised in front of him.
“I don’t mean you any harm. I don’t think I ever did.” He stopped next to her and reached down, offering her his hand. “I’m sorry about everything that happened. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never …”
“It’s okay. I think we’ve both made some mistakes.”
She took his hand, wondering how much of his previous behavior was Smythe and how much was Ryan Farmer. It was odd that he’d found any connection between her and Stone House. That must’ve been part of the set up, some little step Smythe induced.
“Does this mean you’ll stop trying to kill me?” She got to her feet, with his help, and noticed that he appeared as exhausted as she was. He must’ve gone through hell too.
“I never…It doesn’t matter. When the police make the report, I’ll be locked away. I’ve tried to kill you, kidnapped you, not to mention nosing into parts of your life that I never belonged in.”
“What brought you back to my house?”
He shrugged. “Gut feeling. I have a police scanner in my car and several people were calling for Smythe but he wasn’t answering. I played a hunch and thought he might be here. I also realized that I really only started hating you after working with Smythe. I think he did something to me.”
Deirdre glanced over in Smythe’s direction, expecting to see those open dead eyes staring at her. Instead she saw Smythe rising to his feet. The red dot still between his eyes like a quaint religious symbol but his face had changed.
“Amazing what you can do to the frontal lobe.” Smythe spoke but his voice sounded different. “So very amazing.”
She glanced down at Farmer’s gun. It was a .22. The bullet hadn’t exploded through Smythe’s brain, but lodged itself somewhere in the inner workings. The man lived.
Farmer stood there, gun in hand, not moving. The sight too horrible for him to register and the shock might get them both killed. She almost reached for the gun in his hand when Smythe spoke again, catching her off guard.
“You’re free from me Deirdre. I hope I left you with a little knowledge.” He reached up and wiped away a bit of blood dripping down his nose. “I guess one scar between the eyes is better than what I had.” He turned his face from side to side. “Not bad but I’ll need to grow the hair out. It’s much too short.”
“Niam?” For a second Deirdre thought she’d faint. “Is that you?”
“It worked out well in the end.” He looked at her and winked. “I prefer to have a cock instead of hole any day. Having your body would’ve robbed me of some of my greatest pleasures.” He turned and started to walk away. “Besides, you’re not much fun.”
“Wait. What happens now?”
He laughed and the sound was very Niam. Pausing, he glanced back at her. “You work on dealing with the knowledge I’ve left you and I will try to do the same. I’m afraid you’ve made as much of an impact on me, as I have you.” He looked down at his hands and trembled. “I don’t think I’ll be troubling you, not at least until I understand all these memories and things you copied into me.” He locked eyes with her and touched his lips. “At least I know what kissing you is like. I wonder what else I can learn from this Smythe. Too bad you didn’t sleep with him.”
“It’s over?”
He took a deep breath. “Nothing is ever over. Colinster is still out there. Please, remember one thing though. You aren’t responsible for your mother. I swear on all I believe in, you are not to blame.”
Niam or Smythe or whatever he was, walked away. He grew dim in the shadows, disappearing into the street of her little subdivision. She had to wonder if Niam would pick up his life or Smythe’s. She might see him at the station or he might return to his recruits in the mountains.
“What in the hell just happened?”
Deirdre had forgotten about Farmer. “Smythe has a new guest taking up residence in his body.” She supposed the truth would work, although it seemed to make Farmer look very pale. “His body had
an accident.”
A cop car barreled down the road, siren off but lights flashing. Deirdre imagined one of her neighbors had called them after hearing the shot. They’d probably looked outside and saw a man lying in her driveway. As it was she could see curtains move, but no one dared turn on a light or come outside. People were bound to look at her strangely after this. She hoped she didn’t get a memo about it stuck in her door from the home owners association.
The cop parked on the road and opened his car while pulling out a pistol. He moved closer but hid behind his open car door while shouting at them. Farmer complied with the officer’s instructions, along with Deirdre, both dropping to their knees with their hands raised. It reminded Deirdre of some perverse cult and she laughed wondering if the guy with the gun would ask them to bow next.
“My name is Deirdre Flye. This is my home. Detective Ryan Farmer arrived just in time to save my life.” She turned her head and looked at Farmer. “That’s all anyone needs to know. This whole time, you were trying to save my life. I’ll drop the complaint and no more needs to be said.”
“I never liked vigilantes, but maybe there are some cases cops shouldn’t get involved in.” He smiled, looking odd with his hands still over his head. “Thank you for keeping me out of jail.”
“No problem, oh, and for the record, I only do security.” She didn’t want to get in the habit of dealing with cults or magic spells. “I prefer annoyed rich people to this shit.”
“Did I hear you say a guy was taking up residence in Smythe or with Smythe?”
“You don’t want to know, Ryan.”
The officer approached, gun drawn. “ID please.” After checking both their driver’s licenses, he lowered the weapon. “Anyone want to explain what happened tonight?”
“Not really.” Deirdre spoke at the same time Farmer said, “No.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Deirdre sat in her office, staring at the calendar on the wall where the upcoming jobs were penciled in the little squares. A week had gone by since the fiasco at Tamara’s house. Tamara had even called her from the hospital, telling Deirdre how grateful she was to be free of Colinster’s influence. At least she’d lived, although most of Tamara’s memories during that time were a blur.
Niam was out of her head. So far she was coping with the thoughts he’d left behind. Those she doubted she’d ever be free from. It wasn’t so terrible. Although, finding unfamiliar thoughts when she was naked and vulnerable was too much.
Lora had something of a happy ending. Tamara decided to bring Lora and Gladys to Europe for her theatrical production based in England where she hoped to keep them safe from whatever people were still loyal to Colinster. They would travel together for the next six months. It would be good for all of them, especially Lora, who would probably get a kick out of seeing her grandmother and mother verbally spar a few times. That kid was tough and thankfully didn’t remember much about her abduction.
From the little research Tech gathered, Colinster wasn’t a serious threat. Most of his work happened through money and the last set up had drained him. Until he found more funds, he couldn’t do much. From what they could tell, he couldn’t even buy a plane ticket from his current home in Tokyo to the states much less have hired guns ready to track Tamara Haas.
A lot of things had changed since that night. Ryan Farmer was back on the job, and amazingly so was Noah Smythe. Farmer and Smythe stopped hanging out together and the victim from the shooting in her driveway was simply listed as an unidentified suspect.
Farmer explained to everyone about the cult and the members who’d tried to kill their beloved Deirdre Flye. Oh yes, he was her biggest fan and for that, she was also grateful.
As for Noah Smythe, he still asked her for dates when she went to the station and a few people mentioned some odd behavior. At least Noah/Niam wasn’t trying to lead any teenagers into starting new religions. He also hadn’t gone near her home or approached her on the street. His confrontations were flirty and thankfully, confined to the station.
“Deirdre?” Sabrine poked her head into the office. “You’ve been quiet lately and well, I need a break. Let’s go out. There’s this cheesy eighties club that just opened up. I thought we’d check it out.”
“I don’t…” Deirdre stopped. She’d almost said that she didn’t know how to dance, but now that was a lie. Niam had been a wonderful dancer and he left her with knowledge, even about the two-step. “Maybe it’s time I tried something new.”
Deirdre doubted that she would ever find peace with Niam, but perhaps she had learned a thing or two. She’d been void of emotion for so long, that maybe trying out a few of Niam’s would be a refreshing lesson in the aspects of life she’d missed out on for so long.
“Maybe I’ll even try one of those colorful drinks you’re always downing.”
“You mean it?” Sabrine’s face lit up. “You’re going to try alcohol.”
“Why not? We are the sum of our experiences and I’ve experienced very little.” In that one thing, Niam had her beat. He’d lived life to the fullest, even if it was for the wrong reasons. During all his ordeals and trials, he’d tried to bring pleasure into his world.
“Then let’s make tonight special. Let’s call up the whole crew.”
About the Author:
Jennifer Cloud was born in Asheville, North Carolina. There she met her husband who encouraged her to write after finding a partial manuscript. She now resides in Missouri with her husband and two daughters.
She is the author of many novels in both print and electronic versions. She’s also had two dozen short stories published and many novellas. She can be found at www.JenniferCloud.com.
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