“Nach bhfuil tú an fear an Muirchertach raibh!” she said quietly. “Sure, you're no the man the Muirchertach was! There was a ram who knew how to tup a ewe.”
Then, she was gone, and the conflagration started by the lightning strikes built rapidly into an inferno, consuming most of the old, wooden cottage, while bitter, cold and heavy rain, poured through the hole in the roof above Gerry O’Keith’s chilling corpse, his eyes staring blankly out into the darkness.
7
Cassie Bettancouer stood, eyes filled with tears, staring at the smoking ruins of the cottage she had left only three days earlier. Around her, fire fighters, police officers and paramedics scurried about, hosing down smouldering hotspots, investigating possible causes, trying to figure out what had happened. Other than keeping her away from the unsafe building, the small army of rescuers paid her little attention. She’d flown out to Bermuda, only to find out that her mother was already out of hospital and safe and well back at home, so Cassie had left the island to get back to Gerry and help him shut the cottage down for summer before heading back to work. But, instead of the happy surprise she’d been planning to spring on him, she’d come back to find the burnt out ruin and the teams at work on it.
“Miss Bettancouer.” The voice of a young female police officer brought her out of her reverie.
“Yes.”
“They are going to be bringing him out now.”
“Will I be able to see him?”
“I don’t know, miss, but you can ask the ME when he comes out, if you want.”
A few moments later, a group of four men carefully shepherded a gurney out through the precarious remnant of the front door and on to veranda that the rain had protected from the fire. Carefully Cassie made her way through the yellow tape and across the grass to the steps leading up to the doorway.
“Can I see him, please?” she asked the oldest of the group.
“I am not sure that’s a good idea, miss,” he replied. “I am afraid he’s been pretty badly burnt.”
“I don’t care,” Cassie responded defiantly. “I want to see him.” The man grimaced, as if uncertain what to do.
“Very well, miss, but you had better brace yourself.” He put out his hand to help Cassie up the steps, then turned and nodded at one of the assistants. The man stepped aside and carefully pulled back the blue tarpaulin covering the gurney. Cassie gasped at the sight before her, and her head swam with sudden faintness, but, somehow, she managed to hold herself together. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then looked down at the gurney.
The first thing she noticed was Gerry’s face – the vacant, open eyes; the paleness of his skin and lips; the look of abject terror in the twisted grimace of his mouth. Then she looked at his arms, still raised over his head, and almost untouched by the fire until just below the wrist. Everything past that point was a charred, gnarled mass of burnt flesh and bone, the sight of which made her shudder and sob. Finally, she looked down to see the rough, raw stump of wood that stuck out of the gaping hole in the middle of his chest, sprinkled with sawdust from where the fire fighters had sawn off the protruding beam. The blue tarpaulin covered the rest of his body below that point and, when she tried to lift it off, the ME stopped her with a gentle hand.
“Nothing very pleasant below that point, miss,” he said. “Just a lot of burnt flesh and bone, really. Almost totally consumed by the fire, he was.” Cassie shuddered, feeling her gorge rise at his words, while the empty pit in her chest heaved, making it difficult for her to inhale.
“Come on, miss,” the quite voice of the policewoman standing next to her soothed. “Let’s get you away from here for now, until they have made the area safe.” Cassie turned, almost in a daze, as the policewoman gently took her elbow to lead her away.
Suddenly, through the tears that were starting to stream down her face, Cassie noticed the sunlight twinkling on something buried in a pile of ash and burnt timbers that had been dumped on the ground beside the cottage. Stepping off the veranda, she knelt by the pile and, with a few ginger sweeps of her hand, uncovered the engraved silver box that contained the Tarot of the Acolyte. Picking it up, she let the wind blow away the few remnants of ash that stubbornly clung to the box, and then hugged it to her chest, feeling some comfort from the warmth that seemed to radiate from it. Standing up, she let the young policewoman lead her away from the cottage to the cluster of cars that were waiting on the narrow pathway.
As they drove away from the cottage, from overhead there came a loud “Cahaw!”, and a large, black raven took flight from the branches of a nearby tree, and followed the police car along the winding path.
Tales from the Tarot of the Acolyte will continue with Temptation: The Devil
ASHEN’S BLOG
King of Vengeance
“BEASTS”
By
Leanore Elliott
KING OF VENGEANCE
A mysterious legend exists from the days of an old...A war, raging above us in the universe for the last thousand years. Tales were spun about a ruthless God-like king who sat on an eternal throne, protecting his kingdom from other clans. He carelessly cast lives away with a cold indifference and his legend grew, as he became the fear of many and the hope of a few.
An entire world filled with lustful pleasures and miserable pain came before him, with its many joys and reluctant sorrows but he could never feel anything. His power increased, while his coldness grew. He scorned love, laughed at death and watched as many lived, loved and died just for the pleasure of experiencing it. It never moved him, for he was the King of Beasts, the most feared and ungodly monarch of all the realms.
The power of his birthright brought an immortal existence for him which lasted for a millennia; though in reality, he’d not even lived a single day. He became weary of the throne and removed his crown to step into our world and find a way to feel alive. He found his heart and the beat of it started when the greatest power known to any world overwhelmed it. The bitterness faded while his cold eyes took in a new wonder, a new phenomenon—love.
He reveled in a new life where he lived, loved and was king no more.
The sins committed by him and the pain that fell on others by virtue of his cold actions, rippled through echoing against the fabric of time to bounce back endlessly.
Vengeance is cold and its deliverance divinely fated; the beasts of vengeance will have their day.
“Love can be a velvet gift with a steel gauntlet in it.”
CHAPTER ONE
“These ruthless cleaved spirits were crafted to be merciless and carry vengeance within stone hearts of marbled wrath.” —The King of Beasts, 16th Century
*
Los Angeles Metro Freeway, One-0-One Interchange...2013
The car swerved down the rainy streets at a hundred miles an hour. Pouring rain slanted hard and ran over the dark road while the rapidly moving wipers on the windshield could barely keep up with the deluge. Benny gripped the wheel and gazed into his rearview mirror. Dammit, still there. He’d already pushed his foot all the way down on the petal. He’s a God Damn bloodhound! Maybe I can lose him on the off ramp.
Benny leaned forward and tried to see the blurry road. Fuck, did I miss the ten already? The old Buick shuddered with a slam and tilted forward as his head slammed onto the steering wheel. “Fucking cop!” he gasped while his body trembled with panic. He’s ramming my bumper! What kind of God Damn engine did he have in that car?
Benny knew he’d better think of something and quick. With Payne on his bumper and his ass, he was gonna go down for this one. He already had two strikes and a third would mean life. His car suddenly swerved erratically while he heard a loud pop. A blowout? He gripped the steering wheel with all his might and tried to control the Buick while it spun sideways and back. He knew exactly when it left the ground as it rose from the flooding road and flew through the wet whirling air.
A loud crunching of metal sounded and it went on forever, as glass rained in shards all
around him. His world turned upside down and exploded with a reverberating roar. Time whirled by in a dream-like vortex and he opened his eyes. Smoke pinched his nostrils as he was lying in the twisted metal, and the rain smattered his bloody face.
A pair of steely eyes gazed at him through the shattered car window.
Benny laughed when he saw the familiar, stern face. “So, you didn't get me, cop!” His mouth literally bled the words out. “I ain't going in, you big dumb ass!” He winced with pain while his laughter grew. The gas fumes wafted under his bleeding nose and he knew it would only be a moment before the car went up in smoke and flames.
An evil sounding chuckle rippled from all around him while the metal of his car twisted sideways with crunching glass spitting everywhere. Benny gasped and found himself standing on the slick pavement of the road.
The man, who held him in a steel-like grip, stood on long legs in a staunch, unrelenting stance, at well over six and a half feet of hard brawn—a truly unrelenting, brick laden physique. Damp russet hair crowned his head as his flinty dark eyes stared at Benny from a ruggedly handsome face, which currently wore an amused expression.
Benny blinked rapidly as he shook in the man’s one-handed grip. Victor Payne. A fearful shudder rolled through him while he peered up at the tall cop.
A malicious glint blazed from his eyes while he glared at Benny. “So, you thought you were gonna die, eh?” His cold smile widened at him.
Benny swallowed. “I think my ribs are broke and my arm—” He winced as his body rose higher in the wet, smoke coated air.
“And to think, I wanted that particular pleasure,” Victor growled low.
Benny anxiously looked around as he hung aloft. “You ain't gonna finish me off, are ya?” He heard the cold laugh again while his body swung around and was unceremoniously deposited into a backseat. The car door slammed shut as he slumped down onto the cool inviting leather.
“And don't bleed on my seats, or I‘ll fucking bleed the rest of you out!” Payne warned from the front seat.
He heard his old Buick explode behind them and lay his head back on the leather seat. Son of a bitch, how in hell did he get me out of my car? He closed his eyes with a relieved shaky sigh. Well, at least I’ll get a cushy stay at the county hospital.
Benny floated in and out of lulling consciousness, not knowing how long he’d been out. The double doors of the police station slammed against the building with a boom and his eyes popped open as Payne planted him at the desk. He huffed and puffed, his chin bleeding all over the counter.
“Get him booked,” Payne barked at the Sergeant. “Three open warrants, evading arrest and flight from an officer,” he paused. “And tack on a public nuisance charge while you are at it.” He scowled at Benny.
The police clerk blinked at him. “But, he's bleeding all over the fucking floor!”
The broad shouldered Lieutenant smiled. “Ain't my problem.” He let go of Benny's collar and Benny’s body folded like a crumpled wad of paper as he slid to the floor.
“God Damn it, Payne!” The clerk shouted at his receding back and ran around the desk to lift the man from the floor.
~* * * * *~
Victor Payne shut the door of his office and plopped down onto the leather couch. “All in a day's work and way too much fucking fun!” He reached into his pocket for his little cigars, took out his Zippo and lit one. Leaning back, he propped his boots up. “Ahh, nice,” he blew the words out with the flavorful smoke. A satisfied grin slipped over his lips. The door slammed open and he didn’t even react while he continued to enjoy his cigarillo.
“God Damn it, Payne!” The captain’s voice boomed down at him.
He swiveled his gaze up to see her standing over him, her green eyes blazing.
“What?” he asked in an amused tone.
“You can't keep bringing ’em in, all busted up!” Laura Anders slammed the door closed behind her.
“Now, Cap, I got a good excuse this time.”
“No excuses!” She stomped her foot.
“He wrecked his car.”
She glared at him and sighed. “And, instead of the county hospital, you deposited an injured perp at the front desk?”
Victor stood from the couch. “I'm not a baby sitter, Captain. I find ’em and this station processes them.” He strolled over to his desk with ease and didn’t feel worried about the anger she exhibited just now. He knew Captain Anders had a definite weak spot for him. He’d worked for her for three years now, and she’d been heard to say, in her twenty years on the force, she’d never seen a more productive cop.
“You only get away with it because you make ten collars a month!”
“Yeah, and I’m running out of perps.” He grinned at her while he gritted the cigar in his teeth and sat in his chair.
She stepped up to the desk. “Well, I got a real challenge for you.”
He raised his head.
Laura’s attitude shifted completely as she smiled and sat on the edge of his messy desk. “It's pretty gory.” In a frowning distaste, she moved an old Chinese food container further away from her. “It may be an actual serial.”
“Yeah?”
“It's not in our district, but they can't seem to crack it.”
“Where?” His eyes narrowed.
“Now, Vic, you aren't going to like it.”
He tilted his head at her. “Not Santa Barbara?”
“No.” She laughed.
Victor released a breath of relief.
“It's even better than that.”
“No, don't tell me.”
“Malibu.” Laura nodded.
Victor winced and stood from his chair. “No fucking way! A real cop wouldn’t want a post Malibu, it’s a craptastic, dull town...”
She raised a brow at him. “Now, don't go and get all irregular on me.”
“It better be juicy or I won't go.” He sat in his chair again.
“Four victims so far, all men about thirty to fifty years old, real filthy with wealth type tycoons and most of ’em...?”
Victor listened with interest.
“Most of them were terrible women abusers.”
“So, you think the perp is a woman?”
“No proof, but...” She folded her arms over her navy blue shirt and gave him a sly smile.
“Tell me.” He sighed heavily.
Laura leaned in closer. “Slashed throats. All neatly slit, down through the sternum.” Her brows drew up with the macabre description. “Sometimes...” She guardedly gazed around. “...They’re in pieces.”
“Pieces, like hacked?” His interest peaked at the description.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Forensics is mystified and they can’t seem to identify the marks.
“What about DNA?” He tugged a profound hit of smoke from his cigar.
“The strangest part, believe it or not, all unidentifiable or of unknown strands.” She hopped down from the desk and gave him an expectant look.
Victor stared at her for a long moment. “Yeah, I’ll take it.” He snubbed the cigar out into the ashtray.
“I thought you would be thrilled?” She wrinkled her brow at him.
“Well, fuck yeah! I’m thrilled to pieces.” He raised a dark brow with the metaphor.
The captain laughed, walked to the door, and turned back. “Oh, but there’s just one catch.”
He stilled.
“You gotta work with the Malibu guy who's on it already.”
Victor bolted from his chair. “No fucking way!”
“It's non-negotiable.” A taunting smile played on her lips.
“You know I don't like partners, Laura!”
“Yeah, but it’s not in my station.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“All right, but the dickhead better not get in my way!”
Laura tilted her head with humor. “Oh, Vic, they’re so polite down in Malibu country, you know?” she teased. “I’m sure this so-called dickhead will accommodate The Hurt Leg
end.”
He frowned at her.
“Yeah, and I sure wish I could be there to see it!” She let out a boisterous laugh and closed the door behind her.
Victor sat back down. What the fuck? It sounds like a Chimera-style killing. He took his cigars out again. “And I really hate the fucking beach!”
~* * * *~
Gardner Mansion, Malibu Parkway
The church bell sound rang as the door chimes tolled through the mansion.
Philip stepped down the stairs with an exhilarated feeling. Francesca! She’ll be an exquisite addition to my collection. Now, where should I take her? He rolled his eyes. Just up to my room, I guess. There’s really no need to wine and dine this chick, she's so hot for me. He strolled to the door and opened it.
Not demure or tepid in any way, Francesca stood brazenly attired in a long black, slinky-like dress.
His appreciating gaze roamed over her. Her gleaming dark hair came down in long, silky curls to frame her heart shaped face. The dress accentuated her lovely curves and her hardened nipples peeked at him through the thin glittery material. “Now that’s a dress!” And nothing underneath. Mmm, yes, my kind of dress, all right. He gave her a charming smile as he took her hand. “Come in, you lovely thing,” he purred at her.
Francesca stepped in and gazed around. “I hope we’re alone, Philip.”
“Oh yes, I sent all the servants home and the champagne is chilling upstairs as we speak.” He winked.
She nodded her head, her expression full of distraction while she continued to search around. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know I’m married and I just can't afford...” She smiled nervously.
“Yes, love. We are very much alone.” He tugged her into his arms.
She released a soft feminine sigh and leaned close to kiss him.
Philip eagerly wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her waiting mouth.
Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance Page 193
