by Angie Sandro
George tries to pull me forward while the rope jerks backward, slicing through my skin. Warm liquid runs down my legs. It’s blood. It’s going to amputate me at the knees.
It hurts… “Let me go,” I cry, twisting my fingers.
“No!” George grabs on to both arms. My legs float in the air. The only things keeping me from flying away are his sweat-slick hands. He bends at the knees, bracing his feet sideways, straining to hold on to me. His face turns red, and his arms tremble from the strain. George versus Acker. And he’s losing.
A quick yank on my legs.
My fingers spasm from the excruciating pain, and I scream as George’s grip slips. I’m airborne. As I hit the ground, the air in my lungs explodes, but before I can inhale, I’m being dragged across the yard. I lift my arms, trying to protect my head from the rocks sticking out of the grass.
Rocks and twigs scratch my skin. I’m flailing and kicking, but I can’t break free. George runs after me, but he can’t keep up. I’m moving too fast, like a rider being dragged by a horse because their foot got caught in the stirrups.
I lose sight of George when I’m dragged between the bushes bordering the woods. Then it hits me. I’m going to die.
That bastard Acker’s gonna kill me this time.
CHAPTER 29
LANDRY
Demon Cursed
Time stands still.
The egret flying overhead freezes in the sky with its wings outstretched for a long, heart-stopping beat, and then time resumes, flashing forward too fast to process. Fear numbs my brain and burns in my chest.
I press my fist against my chest, rubbing it hard. Stay calm.
Daryl balls up the hem of my T-shirt and presses his face into my spine. The neckline of my shirt tightens around my windpipe. I cough, reaching back to rip the cloth from Daryl’s hands, and he stares up at me with wide, tearing blue eyes.
“Reach for the sky!” the guy yells.
My hands whip upward, and I focus on the shine of the gun. How the glint of metal shimmers in the sunlight, making it appear bigger and shinier than it is. The barrel looks Desert Eagle huge. Big enough to blow a hole the size of Texas through my chest and take out Daryl’s narrow head with it.
The gun points between me and Dad. With the flick of the wrist, the guy could shoot either of us or both before we could blink. His wide strides eat up the ground. He reaches Carl, who huddles on the ground, grabbing the kid by his right ear and hauling him to his feet. Carl screams. The gunman twists on Carl’s earlobe, yanking upward until the boy’s forced to run on tiptoes with the bigger, stronger guy.
My heart races with each step the guy takes. The gun doesn’t waver. Why hasn’t he pulled the trigger? We’re at a disadvantage. This would be the perfect opportunity to eliminate us. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I’ll find some way to overpower him. I won’t let him hurt the twins or my dad without a fight.
The guy gets close enough to shove Carl in our direction. The kid falls to his knees, holding his hand over his ear. He pulls it back far enough to see blood on his palm, then screams again.
The guy aims a kick at Carl’s head, but the boy flinches backward. The boot skims where his face used to be. “Shut it ’fore I put a bullet in your head.”
“I can’t hear you, you asshole,” Carl yells, face flushed. The gun drops, and the color drains from the kid’s cheeks.
My heart stutters when Dad steps between the boy and the gun. “Enough! You’ve made your point,” Dad says, and I stare at him in awe. His voice didn’t even tremble. He crouches beside Carl without fear of being shot. “You should be ashamed of yourself, picking on a bunch of kids.”
“Don’t blame me for having to clean up your mess.” The ski mask over the guy’s face muffles his voice. It looks like the same one he wore when he killed Ms. Jasmine. His voice sounded familiar that night, like I knew the person who carried me to Dad’s truck, but I was so out of it from pain that I couldn’t place it then. I still can’t.
“Where’s Dena?” Daryl yells from behind my back. He peeks over my shoulder then ducks back down. “What did you do to my sister?”
“You’ll be with her soon enough. But first tell me, where’s the bitch?”
I stiffen as I figure out he means Mala. “You think we’d come out here without getting backup? The SWAT team’s on its way.”
“Nice try.”
“It’s the truth,” Daryl says. “Deputy Dubois’s at the house. They’ll come find us.”
“Then I’d better take you someplace where they won’t.”
“The Ackers’ hunting lodge?” I ask.
The guy stiffens, and his finger caresses the trigger. “Suppose the rev blabbed about Rathbone taking him there. Never should’ve let him leave alive.”
“Why did you?” Dad asks, lifting Carl into a seated position. The boy’s still crying. I feel bad for him…for us all. This guy’s nuts.
“No reason not to at the time. You didn’t know I was involved with Rathbone. If you’d minded your own business, you would’ve been fine.”
“My son is my business,” Dad barks, rising to his feet.
“He shouldn’t have taken the witches’ side. He should’ve stayed with his own kind and left her to die with her mama.” He gestures with the gun again. “Line up and drop to your knees with your hands behind your backs.”
Dad and I share a long look. His bearded jaw flexes, the only sign of his fear. Scenes from mob movies play in my head. The gangster always has the victim go down on his knees before he shoots him in the back of the head.
“They’re just kids. Why don’t you let them go?” Dad asks.
“Long as they don’t try anything, they’ll be fine. Landry and the girl are the only ones I want.”
I assess the determination in the guy’s watery brown eyes through the holes in the mask, and a chill goes down my spine. He’s lying. Things have progressed too far. He’ll have to kill us all to be safe. Dad and I know it, but hopefully the kids believe him.
“Carl, Daryl, do as he says,” I say, flicking my fingertips at the twins, urging them forward. “Don’t give him any reason to hurt you.”
“Landry, you’ll protect us, won’t you?” Daryl whispers, and I give a tiny nod.
Truth is, I don’t know how to stop him, but I play it cool. The right time to act will come my way…I hope. Possible scenarios play through my head. Do I risk a suicide charge when he gets close? If he shoots, he could miss, or even if I catch a bullet, I might not die right away. Plus my pitiful screams could distract the dude long enough to give the others a chance to break free.
Daryl goes down on his knees and crawls over to his brother. They’re almost as big as I am now, but they look so young huddled against each other. I walk over to Dad and drop to my knees. He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, then crosses his wrists behind his back.
“Move and you die.” I hear the squick of duct tape being unrolled and heavy footsteps stop behind my back. Cold metal presses against my temple. Hot, garlicky breath blows against my neck as a hand grabs my wrists, wrenching my arms out painfully behind me. “Hold still.”
My breath catches as the sticky edge of tape touches my wrist. The guy grunts as he wraps the tape one-handed. It’s loose, but tight enough that I can’t pull it apart. He then lowers the gun and uses both hands to bind me tighter. I can’t even fight him.
What the hell? So much for my bold plan.
I couldn’t find an opening. Not with him holding a gun to my head. Can’t survive a bullet to the brain. The only real chance we’ve got now is if we stay alive and don’t force this fool’s hand. I’ve got to believe my girl will use her uncanny ability to know when I’m buried hip deep in shit and show up with Deputy Dawg to rescue my sorry ass.
Once my hands are tied, the guy squats behind Dad. He leans forward, taking Dad’s large hands in his. He’s so fucking overconfident that he doesn’t hold the gun to Dad’s head but sets it on the ground.
Dad t
hrows back his head, and the head butt catches the guy in the middle of his face. He falls onto his ass. Dad twists around and throws his upper body on top of the guy, using his beer gut to pin him to the ground. His other hand wraps around the wrist of the guy’s gun hand. The twins take off, running toward the woods. They don’t stop to look back when they break the edge of the field and vanish into the trees. I’m struggling to rise to my feet without falling on my face. With my hands taped behind my back, my balance sucks, and it takes two tries before I can get off my knees.
Dad and the guy wrestle for control of the gun. They roll across the ground, leaving a trail of smashed wildflowers. Neither lets go of the other when they enter the pond, but Dad lands on the bottom. He fights to hold his head out of the water. At some point during the fight, the guy lost his mask.
Dad stares up into the familiar face and grunts, “Redford…”
My stomach twists. I never expected to see Clarice’s brother. Even though his voice was familiar, I couldn’t have placed it. We grew up together. And while he probably still holds a grudge from our last fight, I never thought he’d go so far as to try to kill me. Or Ms. Jasmine and Mala.
I break into a low, shambling run toward them. With Red on top, I can get him without hitting Dad. Red’s eyes widen when he sees me. He falls back, jerking the gun from Dad’s hand, and pulls the trigger. The bullet hits, throwing Dad back into the water. Shock drops me to my knees.
Red crawls out of the water, keeping the gun trained on me. His hand trembles as he stares from me to Dad. “Damn it. Why’d you make me do that?”
My world stops again.
“Get him up!” Red screams. He’s lost it.
“How? My hands—”
“Fuck.” He turns in a circle. “Where are the Acker brats?”
Hopefully halfway back to Mala’s place.
Dad rolls onto his knees. Blood spreads across the shoulder of his wet shirt. I run over, and he grabs onto my belt and pulls himself to his feet. He doesn’t say a word, just clutches his shoulder and stares at Red with glazed eyes.
Panic infuses Red, oozing out of his pores like a seeping virus, spreading to infect me, waking the sleeping demon inside. The creature stretches out its tentacles, stabbing them into my brain to see if it can strip away my control. My limbs tingle. I fight to hold on to myself while, at the same time, steadying myself against the growing desire to rip Red into bloody pieces. It becomes harder and harder to think. Prickles of sweat run down my spine.
I glance over my shoulder to meet Red’s gaze. His eye twitches. “Start walking and keep your eyes straight ahead,” he orders with a jerky flick of his wrist.
The muscles between my shoulder blades clench in the expectation of a heated bullet piercing between them. For the next ten minutes, we walk toward the Acker property in silence. It’s slow going with Dad stumbling over each step. The bleeding from his shoulder wound has slowed down but hasn’t stopped, and his face has turned as white as one of Mala’s ghosts.
I should keep my mouth shut, but I’ve got to know. “Why, Red? How did this happen?”
Silence meets my question. Just when I think I won’t get an answer, it comes in a hollow voice empty of emotion. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t—” I want to choke him out. “Rathbone, Gloria Pearson, Jasmine LaCroix. Three people murdered by your hand. And you say you don’t know?”
“I know every one of them deserved to die.” His voice turns implacable. “They were all guilty.”
I duck beneath an outstretched branch and use my back to push it out of the pathway until Dad passes. Sweat rolls down his face, and he pants from exertion. He’s bleeding to death. God! Help us.
My lungs tighten. Breathe. It’ll be okay. The twins…they’re going for George.
I’ve got to distract Red. Keep him talking so he doesn’t give in to his panic and take us out. Hang on, Dad. Just a little longer. Hang on.
What did he say? They deserved to die. “Why? I don’t understand. Rathbone I get. I would’ve killed the bastard myself after what he did to my sister, but Gloria and Ms. Jasmine? I don’t get them. And what did Mala and I do to deserve this?”
Dad stumbles over a rock and goes to his knee with a grunt.
My voice breaks on the words “What did my dad do? He treated you like f-family.”
I crouch beside my father, putting my shoulder underneath his to help him rise. He leans into me for a long moment with his eyes closed and blows out a heavy breath. “I’m okay, son.”
“No. You’re not.” I spin to face Red, not caring about the gun he shoves between my eyes. Shoot me. Do it. Don’t make me watch him die. “He’s dying, Red! Do something. Help him.”
“Never meant for any of this to happen, Reverend Prince.” Guilt lowers his eyes to the ground, but the gun never wavers. “I swear, I only wanted to avenge Lainey. You know how much I loved her. Even after she broke up with me in high school, I never got over her.”
“I always hoped you and my girl would get back together,” Dad says with a weary nod.
“Rathbone lied to me. He said Jasmine LaCroix killed Lainey. Then her daughter goes and curses Clarice so her hair falls out like she’s a mangy dog.” Red stares wide-eyed at Dad, like he expects praise. Or sympathy. He glances at me, and his jaw hardens. “What did you expect me to do, Landry? I went to talk to you about it, but you tried to kick in my teeth. Did you really think I’d roll over and not protect my family?”
Ah, so it’s my fault for holding back. I should’ve gone ahead and shattered his leg when I had the chance. He couldn’t have caused problems while laid up in the hospital.
The path ends at a small clearing. At one time, it held a gated pasture for the livestock, but now it’s mostly overgrown except what has been converted into a small yard area. My footsteps slow. Once we enter the lodge, we’re not leaving.
Red’s boot slams above the small of my back, and I fall forward. Dad grabs my waist, but my weight almost takes us both to the ground.
“Damn it! Stop screwing around,” Red yells.
I flinch at the rage in his voice. Dad holds me upright until I get my feet back beneath me. We stumble to the door. It looms, dark and weathered, before us. Red comes around from behind to throw it open. The crooked smile on his face blows a chill down my spine. “Get inside. Someone’s waiting to see you.”
Dena. I’d almost forgotten about her. “What’s the point of killing us now, Red? You can’t escape. The twins will have reached George by now. He’ll bring in backup and storm this place. And there’s no way in hell he’ll bring Mala. Let us go. Hop a boat and sail to Mexico. Don’t make this worse.”
Red shakes his head. A crazy light brightens his eyes. “Those brats took off before the rev pulled off my mask. They never saw my face. If I take care of you now, I can get the girl later. Once she’s dead, the curse she put on Clarice is broken.”
The curse? “Mala already broke the curse on Friday. Clarice came out to the house, and Mala performed a ceremony. She’s fine now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
A door opens at the back of the room—one of the horse stalls converted into a bedroom. Light shines out of the room, and I catch sight of a hunched form lying on the ground. Dena’s head lifts and turns in my direction. She looks bad. Bruises turn her face a sickly purple and yellow color.
Tears spill from her swollen eyes when her gaze falls on mine. She shakes her head as her lips form my name. “Landry, no…”
The door opens wider.
Clarice steps across the threshold. She sees us and screeches. Her fists clench as she runs to her brother. She throws a punch at Red’s head but he ducks. “Damn it, Bubba! How the hell did you manage to screw up the plan again?”
“I’m sorry. They showed up out of nowhere. What was I supposed to do? Let them go?”
Clarice’s face blanches to the color of Dad’s when she sees the blood staining the front of his shirt. His legs give out.
Clarice rushes forward as he slumps, and she wraps her arms around his waist. She eases him onto the ground. “Shit! We’ve got to stop the bleeding. Hurry and grab the first aid kit. It’s under the kitchen cabinet.”
Red stares at her like she’s crazy. “They’ve seen your face, Clary.”
“What?” She looks up to meet my eye and gasps. She rises from her knees and steps backward. “No! No, no, no, this can’t be happening.” Her eyes shut for a long beat. Minute ticks of expression cross her face as she works through what this means.
Soon tears leak from beneath her sealed eyelids. “I told you to bring Mala LaCroix.” She scrubs her bloodstained fingers across her skirt. “She would’ve come on her own once she knew we had Dena.”
“Landry said she broke the curse on you.” Red waves the gun at her.
“So what? Not like she can’t curse me again if I get in her way.”
“Is this about me?” I ask.
She scowls. “Ha, dream on.”
“Be honest.” I give her a sad smile, and her shoulder’s slump.
“Maybe it started out about you. After I found out what my idiot brother had done to that old, slut witch, I figured we could get rid of Mala too. She cursed me, after all. Like I’d let her get away with doing that. Or with butting in on our relationship.” She gives me a sideways grimace. “Of course that was before I saw you talking to invisible people, but by then Red already had Dena.”
“Yeah, sis. Your plan sucks.” Red goes into the other room. I hear a cry, and he comes out of the room, dragging Dena behind him by her duct-taped hands. He throws her down beside Dad. “Let’s just end this now.”
“But Landry…”
“He’s seen your face. So has everyone else. The law’s on the way so let’s just kill them and get the hell out of here before we get arrested. Nobody else knows that Rathbone’s dead. We’ll use his gun, toss it where it’ll be found, and they’ll blame him for the murders.”
Reluctance slumps Clarice’s shoulders further, but resolve hardens in her eyes. She’s always been good about compartmentalizing her emotions. If it doesn’t benefit her in the long run, she gets rid of it. Like with her favorite Barbie dolls. She only kept the valuable ones. The others she tossed in the trash. Boyfriends. She only dated those who could afford to splurge on her. The only reason she obsessed after me was ’cause she couldn’t have me. She never loved me. She wanted to own me. And now that she can’t, she’s got no problem discarding me.
