“That’s what you think,” Taggert said.
“I didn’t kill you.”
“Because you’re soft,” Weiskopf said.
Bianca unzipped his pants. “I’ll make you hard.”
Jake sucked in his breath.
“Maria likes you,” Edgar said.
“Who’s Maria?” Katrina said, frowning.
Laurel whispered into Jake’s ear while Bianca blew him. “See? Maria likes you, too.”
“I’ve got to find Marla,” Jake said.
“You lost her again,” Madigan said.
“You’re in over your head,” Reichard said.
“Give me back my ring!” Taggert rocked back and forth in his chair.
“That’s it,” Jake said as Bianca worked him over. He reached down for her head.
But Laurel pinned his arms behind his back. “Nothing’s ever easy,” she said.
Baldy slugged him in the gut. “Motherfucker!”
Dread snapped his head back and leaned so close that Jake saw the gold tooth in his mouth. “The Master wants to see you.”
“I don’t have a master,” Jake said through clenched teeth.
Baldy slugged him in the stomach again. “Motherfucker!”
Groaning, Jake doubled over, his face inches from the crown of Bianca’s head. She looked up at him, but everything about her had changed.
“You’re not Bianca,” he said, gasping.
“I’m better than her,” Kira said. Then her forked tongue tickled his face.
“Motherfucker!” This time Baldy punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.
Jake wiped blood from his nose.
AK kneeled beside him and held up a baggie filled with white powder. “You need some blow. I got some real good shit right here.”
Jake shook his head. “You stabbed my eye.”
“So? You killed me! That doesn’t mean we can’t help each other out now and then.”
Katrina crouched beside them. “Put that away. What he really needs is Black Magic.” She dangled the packet of black powder before Jake’s face. “Don’t you want to snort some Magic off my tits?”
Jake closed his hands into fists. “You killed Edgar.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Katrina said.
“She turned me into a raven,” Edgar said. “You said so yourself.”
“Freeze!” Maria said, aiming her Glock at Jake.
“I didn’t do anything,” Jake said.
“He was going to,” Katrina said.
Maria gestured with her gun. “Get up.”
Breathing heavy, Jake got to his feet.
Maria looked him up and down. “Put your dick back in your pants.”
“Sorry.” Turning red, he pushed his penis inside his pants and zipped his fly.
“Shoot him,” Katrina said.
Maria wavered but she sure seemed angry.
“Eat him,” Kira said.
“Suck him,” Bianca said.
“Trust him,” Laurel said.
“Depend on him,” Marla said.
“Give him your love,” Sheryl said.
Jake swallowed. “Give me a chance.”
Maria’s gun hand trembled, but she still managed to squeeze her Glock’s trigger.
Damn, Jake thought.
Jake opened his eye in total darkness. He lay on one side, metal vibrating beneath him. Running his palms over the cold metal floor, his fingers touched long, parallel grooves. His head throbbed and his body felt like rubber, as if he had just come down from a three-day binge. The sound of an engine filled his ears, and gasoline fumes lingered in his nostrils.
Cargo van, he thought. Or a truck.
Moving.
Faces flickered in his mind: Sheryl. Kira. Laurel. Katrina. Maria.
Old Nick?
A dream or a hallucination brought on by the watcher’s venom.
At least I’m alive.
His throat ached. He tried to sit up, but the task proved too difficult.
Paralyzed?
Perhaps the creatures’ venom worked like a black widow’s, immobilizing their victims. He raised his hands to his face and ran his fingers down to his chin, which caused his fingertips to tingle. His stomach clenched, and even as he worked his way up on his hands and knees, he vomited. So much for Angeline’s cooking.
As an acidic smell rose to his nostrils, he stood, his knees wobbling, and stutter-stepped to the rear of the vehicle, his heavy footsteps echoing. The amount of headroom and the distance he covered told him he was in the back of a large truck. He slammed into steel doors and groaned. Sliding his hands along the doors, he determined there was no way to open them from the inside. His stomach still felt queasy. Bending his knees, he pressed his back against the doors and searched his pockets. They were empty: no wallet, no car keys, no Maglite. He patted his torso. They had removed his shoulder holster and Glock. He pulled at his fingers. The ring was gone.
Son of a bitch!
The truck rolled over a bump or a pothole, and a banging sound echoed through the compartment. The hair on the back of Jake’s neck stood on end, and he examined the darkness for any trace of light, something he could use as a reference point to get his bearings. Pure blackness.
Bianca filled Jake’s thoughts. Maybe she was in the truck, too. He addressed the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone else in here?”
No answer.
Where were they taking him?
To meet Avademe.
Despite the existence of the watchers, Jake refused to believe a giant sea monster had sunk the yacht with Governor Santucci aboard. He found his way to a corner and moved his right hand along the side of the truck. Tilting his head, he hoped to see a hatch in the ceiling, but darkness overwhelmed him.
With his back pressed against the truck’s side, he inched toward the front end. The air grew thick, and he felt perspiration on his forehead and under his arms. His breathing came in short rasps, and when he tried to control it, his heart sped up.
Aftereffects of the venom or—
He smelled fish.
A low hiss sliced through the darkness ahead of him, causing him to jump back with his heart thudding in his chest.
A watcher!
He was locked in the truck with one of the creatures, without the protection afforded by the ring. Raising his fists in a defensive manner, he heard something scrape the metal floor to his left.
Claws.
An identical sound came from his right.
There are two of them!
Both of the “children” he had failed to kill. He prowled the darkness as he tried to determine the exact location of each creature. Had they been waiting for him to regain consciousness, or had he put them on defense by moving too close to them? Swallowing, he stepped back. One of the creatures hissed, then the other. The sounds reminded Jake of saliva gurgling through a breathing tube.
Wasting no time, he aimed a kick straight ahead and connected with one of the watchers. The creature let out a startled scream, and Jake heard it slam onto the floor. As he brought his foot down for balance and rotated his body to throw a punch at the second watcher, the left side of his face exploded with pain and he let out a cry. At first he thought the creature had shot him with its tongue, but when he felt his face, igniting a second wave of pain, three of his fingers slipped through a deep gash below his cheek and touched his gums and teeth. Jerking his hand back, the fingers came away sticky with blood. With a single swipe of its claw, the watcher had left four deep canyons in Jake’s face. He felt warm blood flowing down his neck, and the sweat trickling down his temple caused the top gash to sting even more.
Driven by blind panic, he ducked low and passed the creature, turning in a circle where he estimated the center of the floor to be. He touched his face again and winced. It felt as if he had four new mouths below his missing eye.
He heard the creatures following him, the sound of their claws on the metal floor alerting him to their approximate positions. They seemed to have n
o trouble locating him.
They can see in the dark.
If they truly were amphibious, their eyes were developed to see in the dark water.
That’s why they only come out at night—their eyes are too sensitive for sunlight.
Jake continued to turn in small circles, tracking the sounds of their movements. They seemed determined to face him from opposite sides, from the front and back. He reversed his direction and they hissed.
They’re communicating. Strategizing.
Their sounds grew closer. He needed to seize control of the situation, or they would tear him to pieces. He stopped turning, and as they did the same, he jumped off” the floor. Then he slammed his feet down on the metal so hard the sound reverberated around the walls. The creatures’ hissing became louder, and then he heard a wet gurgling sound that he knew indicated they were about to shoot their tongues at him.
Have to time this just right.
If he moved too soon or too late, he would receive a double dose of the juice, which he imagined could easily kill him or destroy his mind.
Now!
Jake dropped to his knees and heard what sounded like water bursting from a garden hose. The watcher before him grunted, and Jake heard both creatures retract their tongues with slurping sounds. The watcher he had kicked to the floor returned there, and he heard it writhing around. Then it turned still.
Pivoting as he stood, Jake faced where he believed the remaining creature coiled to strike. At the gurgling sound, he tensed his body, ready to spring. The watcher drew the sound out, waiting. Then Jake heard the creature’s tongue lash out, and he stepped to his left and swatted the space where he had just stood. The tongue wrapped around his left forearm several times, and he caught its tip with his right hand, causing the creature to shriek. He heard the venom strike the wall behind him.
Shifting the tongue’s tip into his left hand, he jerked hard on the tongue, and the watcher staggered toward him with a high-pitched squeal. He punched the thing square in the face, burying his fist in the twitching feelers. The creature fell back, then sprang forward in an effort to protect its tongue. Jake groped for the feelers, but several tiny mouths sank their teeth into his hand and wrist. He charged into the watcher at full speed, driving the creature backwards into the opposite wall. When he felt the impact of it smashing against metal, he dropped low enough to ram his right shoulder into its chest and heard several ribs shatter, the creature bellowing in pain. Jake spun the watcher around so it faced the wall and drove the same shoulder into its back, which created more snaps.
Jake knew he could not let up his assault. In order to survive, he needed to stay within striking distance of the creature and give it no time to recover. Releasing its tongue, he hurled the monster to the floor with all his strength, and the watcher screeched. Jake followed the noise through the darkness. His prodding right foot touched the creature’s back as it got to its hands and knees, and he slammed it back to the floor. He set one foot on the left side of the creature’s head and the other on the right. Then he raised his right knee to his chest and drove his foot down as hard as he could. The watcher’s skull collapsed, and Jake heard fluids squirting from both sides of its head. He stomped the soggy mass again and again.
With his chest heaving, Jake wrenched his foot free of the sticky mess on the floor and stumbled over to where the other creature had collapsed. Using his left foot for guidance, he located the watcher and kicked it. When the creature did not respond, he concluded that it was unconscious, stoned, or dead, but he didn’t intend to take any chances. Further prodding confirmed this creature lay on its back, and Jake straddled the watcher’s head. As he lifted his foot, he knew he was taking a chance: if the creature was playing possum, it could easily shoot its tongue straight up into his scrotum. He brought his foot down but felt powerful resistance as two claws seized his ankle and gave it a sharp twist. Jake turned in the same direction that the watcher twisted his ankle in, saving it, but he crashed face-first into the metal floor.
The watcher released Jake’s ankle, and Jake rolled to his left just as the creature pounced where he had been. Jake attempted to get up, but the creature scrambled on top of him. The instant Jake felt the monster’s claws touching his neck, he seized its scaly wrists and jerked the claws away before they could do to his throat what they had done to his face. In that moment, he realized he had left his face vulnerable to the watcher’s tongue and venom.
When Jake heard the gurgling sound that prefaced each attack, he released the creature’s wrists and reached up with both hands. In under two seconds, his left hand closed over the back of the creature’s neck, and his right hand found what felt like a lower jaw. He was so close to the thing that its feelers slimed his face. He felt something in the undulating head open like a mouth, and he yanked its neck toward him while shoving its head back. The watcher’s tongue hissed out above his head, at a different angle than the creature had intended, and he felt its neck snap. The tongue dropped over his face like a dying snake, and he threw the foul-smelling body on the floor.
Jake lay panting in the darkness, his throat and chest aching.
Thank God there were only two of them.
With great care, he felt along the wounds in his face. The gashes were at least four inches long. One stretched along his jawline, another ran from near his mouth to his ear, another from below his nose to his temple, and the top one ran from just below his glass eye almost to his hairline. He had always taken his good looks for granted but now knew he would never have that luxury again.
Sitting up with a groan, he crawled to the front of the truck and slumped with his back against the wall.
Who’s driving this thing?
The truck rumbled to a stop, then proceeded at a slower speed.
We’re passing through a security gate.
Thirty seconds later, the truck stopped again, turned around, and backed up. Jake got to his feet. When the truck stopped once more, he heard male voices outside but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They grew faint, and he heard an automated garage door close—a big one, judging by how long it took. Then he listened to the sound of his own breathing.
What felt like ten minutes passed, and he sat back down. Then he heard clanging against the truck’s doors and jumped to his feet, balling his hands into fists.
The doors groaned open and grimy light seeped inside. Jake squinted at a number of figures and sucked in his breath. At least two dozen watchers stood facing him, their feelers twitching in the air. He could only imagine how he looked to them, but he didn’t have to use his imagination to picture the creatures he had killed. He saw them as plain as day, the floor smeared with oversized fish innards.
One of the watchers squealed like a pig, then the rest followed suit. As the creatures climbed into the truck, Jake sprinted across the metal. He kicked one watcher in the head, then another. A third creature managed to stand before him, and he kicked that one in the chest, sending it flying into the scaly crowd. He grabbed the edge of one door and slammed it shut on a watcher, producing a shriek that grew even louder when he planted his foot in its feelers and shoved it back. He reached for the other door, hoping to seal himself in the darkness again, and saw the bloody wounds all over his left hand where the feelers had bitten him in the darkness.
Two watchers clawed at his thighs and pulled him down to the oil-stained concrete floor. He tried to stand, but the creatures piled on top of him. One of them raked his back, and he heard the fabric of his jacket tearing before he felt his flesh do the same. Crying out, he couldn’t move. Feelers slimed his face and neck, and tears filled his eye, the overpowering fishlike stench making him retch.
A gunshot rang out and the watchers froze.
“Get oft” him!” Jake recognized Weiskopf’s voice.
The pressure on his back lessened as the watchers climbed off him. Claws seized his arms and hauled him to his feet.
Weiskopf leaned against Jake’s Maxima with a cigar cle
nched in his mouth and Jake’s Glock smoking in his hand.
They had brought the car rather than leave evidence of Jake’s visit to Reichard’s estate, Jake concluded.
“I know you’re angry,” Weiskopf said. “This man killed your brothers. Altogether he’s killed eight of you.”
The creatures started shrieking all over again, louder this time.
“He’ll pay for that; I promise you. But he has to be judged first. Take him to Avademe!”
A cacophony of approving sounds rose from the watchers, who jerked Jake forward.
Struggling to break free, Jake looked over his shoulder at Weiskopf. “Don’t do this! Let me go! Please, I’m begging you!”
Smiling, Weiskopf puffed on his cigar, and Jake screamed as the monsters dragged him away.
CHAPTER
22
The watchers hauled Jake through an enormous warehouse with ceilings as high as those of an aircraft hangar.
Reichard’s shipyard, Jake thought. We’re in Brooklyn.
They passed hundreds of wooden crates stacked on top of each other before reaching a steel door. A watcher pressed its hand on a scanner mounted on the wall, waited for the metallic click that followed, and opened the door. The others forced Jake through the door, with Weiskopf bringing up the rear.
The six other cabal members stood facing them on a wide indoor dock. Behind them, still, dark water reached fifty feet to the building’s farthest wall. A small yacht could have fit in the space.
Or a submarine.
Jake noticed a vertical seam in the back wall. Glancing at the ceiling, he saw cables, wheels, and a large motor. A pair of enormous doors that could slide open to admit vessels comprised the wall. The watchers dragged him to within ten feet of the cabal members.
Reichard gazed at Jake’s face, his features twisting in disgust. “What the hell happened to you? You look ghastly.”
Jake felt hot, sticky sweat running down his back, then realized it was blood flowing from the wounds where a watcher had clawed him.
“He killed the watchers in the truck,” Weiskopf said, closing the doors behind him.
Cosmic Forces: Book Three in The Jake Helman Files Series Page 23
