by Avery Duncan
As she changed into her pajamas and set up the security system for the night, her eyes scanned over her bed, making herself frustrated. No one is in the house, she told herself, eyes not listening to her silent demand that they stop being paranoid.
She sat on her bed, slowly, as if a bomb would go off if she sat to hard or fast.
The headache got worse, the space behind her eyes pounding. Mary laid back, almost whimpering from how much it hurt. Wrapping her forearms around her head, she tried to breathe normally.
So focused on her headache, Mary didn’t notice the smell of burnt ash.
She quickly fell asleep.
***
The air was dusky, tinted gray around her. In her hands a dagger lay limp, blood staining the sharp blade. Her heart was beating like a race horse, adrenaline pumping through her.
Above her was Kevin, eyes sad, regretful. White hair swayed like something out of Final Fantasy as he shook his head in disappointment, a sigh echoing around them.
Beneath her feet, a body lay dead, eyes wide, bloody mouth gaping. The horror in his eyes made her stomach heave, the knife clattering to the ground.
“Kevin!” she shouted, knowing that she had done this.
Who was the man, beneath her, dead? Her eyes wouldn’t move, wouldn’t look away as the air settled around them, the deadly silence shrieking in her ear like the man had shrieked at the face of death.
“Kevin, please,” she cried, desperation starting to taint her voice. Her hands, covered in the man’s life blood, came up to hold her face, fear, pain and horror surging through her as what she had done finally registered.
“I can’t answer to you anymore, Mary.” The voice said, filled with regret.
"No! You tell me what I did!” Her knees hit the ground hard when she stumbled, her hands barely catching herself. “Kevin, you have to. . . I don’t. . . What happened?”
“Your actions, your decisions and choices have brought the world to this. The others will not let me be acquainted with you no longer. You have done this to my world, Mary. You have ruined my world.” His voice, now angry, was anguished, as if she had killed his children—which, in a way, she had.
From behind her, a gurgling sound came. Then something grasped onto her leg, the sharp touch stabbing into her skin with a deep cold chill that terrified her. Trying to tear herself away, a scream built up in her throat when she looked down to see the decomposing hand of the man that she had killed, his eyes hollow sockets, filled with black and unblinking.
“I’m sorry, I tried! Kevin, make this stop!” she screeched, tearing her leg away.
Instead of the clean break that she had expected, the hand came away with it, the dry smell of ash clouding her nose. Oh, god. . . He’s going to kill me. . .
“You didn’t try hard enough, Mary!” Kevin roared, her name a bitter sound. Perched above her, his finger stabbed down at her. “You didn’t, and you cost the lives of everyone!”
She stepped back, watching as the scene around her changed, watched as men, thousands of them, came from every part of the barren field. The air, instead of a gray, turned to a blood red, as if her eyes were the ones seeing the color, and not all around them.
A woman, face peeled to nothing but bone and hanging muscle, stood a few feet away, eyes hungry yet dead, body limp but moving.
“Kevin,” she begged brokenly, wondering how the hell she was the cause of the worlds demise. “How do I stop this? Please, just help. . .”
His white hair shook, eyes turning a deep, blood red that matched the color on her hands. Her breath came out hard, jerky.
“You did this,” the woman said quietly at first. Her decrepit foot stepped forward, the bones that creaked able to be heard even from where Mary was.
“You killed him,” the woman screeched, right before flying for Mary like a reaper, eyes and mouth flooding with red liquid that resembled blood, claws dripping with what reminded her of poison—yellow, sticking, and steaming.
Chapter 12
“Karren, order sixty-five is ready,” the short, dark skinned man said from behind the counter. A woman with long blonde hair and fake breasts bumbled her way to the counter, flashing a smile and grabbing the drinks.
“I’ll get Macy for the next one,” she called before sashaying her way to a table in the back.
Raff just caught the man’s eyes as he was turning back from putting a red drink on the table, and as soon as the connection was made his face turned hard.
“A friend of mine told me you would be coming,” he murmured, going around the side of the bar to where the wall pulled back for an entrance. Raffaele and Chase waited patiently, exchanging emotionless looks.
“John, take up the bar will you? Ivan wants me out back to help with some cargo,” he explained, giving a nod to who Raffaele assumed was John.
“Follow me?” he asked with dry gallantry.
Raff nodded, walking behind the shorter man through the club. Several woman caught his eye, even returning his wondering gaze with lustful interest, but he found that he could care less and held open the door that Michael lead them through.
The cold night air brushed his skin, giving him light chills. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t changed out of his suit and into dark jeans and a t-shirt. At least with the suit he had had better gun coverage and something to cover his arms.
As Raffaele had expected, no one was in the ally behind the bar. Normally, you would have been able to hear moans and whimpers, but with all of the murders and suspicions going around, not even the horniest of bastards wanted to take the chance of getting caught.
Michael leaned against the wall, arms over his bulky chest, brown eyes watching them closely. “So, you want to know about the murders?” he asked nonchalantly, picking at lint absently on his arm.
“More specifically, the last one.”
Michael grunted. “What about it? It’s just like all of the other ones, nothing special about it.”
Raff growled, putting a hand up when Chase stepped forward. “Don’t lie, I can smell if coming off of you in waves.” It was true; the bitter smell was clogging his nose in the most unpleasant ways.
Brown eyes narrowed, incisors flashing in the dark. “There were only a couple of oddities,” the man said gruffly, containing his violent side. Without the smell of sex and drugs tainting the air, Raff could detect a very faint line of Acutos in the man.
A half-breed, he concluded, holding in his annoyance. Half-breeds were. . .odd. More human that Acutos, but still obtaining the physical appearance of one. Nothing to make them special except short fangs and changing eyes.
“What would those be?” he asked.
“Just. . . Markings.” In the dark, Raff watched his face twist. “And it keeps getting closer to the Leaders house. The murders, the bodies. The evidence.” Behind the barely concealed anger was worry, a fear that someone who everyone looked up to could be in danger.
Raffaele stiffened. “What do you mean? Are you talking about Mary?”
Just the thought of any harm or danger near the beautiful brunette sent his blood boiling. He clenched his hands at his side to keep from hitting the man who would dare to even speak of Mary in a situation like that.
“Mary Waters? Yeah, the murder scenes just keep getting closer and closer to her. Normally a lot of people would over look that, but she is our leader and we do care for her, and. . . She fits the description of his targets perfectly. I heard on the grape vine that her brother has her moved in with him for now.”
He felt a moment of relief. He didn’t know the man, but he was glad that he was taking precautions.
“What were the symbols of? Might you have recognized any of them?”
Behind them, the sound of a door opening had them all turning, Chase being the one to go see what it was about.
“I heard that they were just straight lines with dots around it. Might seem like a tattoo I guess, but the aura that they gave off. . . They told me it was the most malicious thi
ng they’ve felt. And I don’t doubt them.”
“Who are these people?”
Michael shook his head. “Can’t tell, sorry.”
Raff pushed a hand through his hair, feeling a frustration that he hadn’t felt in a while. If only he could get the direct information, maybe he could help Mary. . . No, help the women.
“What was the girl’s name?” he asked, not really wanting to know at all.
“Ashlyn. Ashyln Manson, lived down on Orleans with her parents, a freshman in college.” Raff’s eyes closed, feeling. . .deadened. The parents. . . He would have to talk to them sometime, maybe tomorrow after his meeting with Mary.
“That’s just fucking great,” he said lowly, eyes closing against the anger at the loss of such a young life. “Just lovely.”
“I know. People thought she was a sweet enough girl, and one wrong move has her six feet under.”
“Jesus fuck,” he barked, the irritation and aggravation finally showing. He would have thought about punching the wall at first. Really, he would have. But he pulled away his hand, could already feel the aching in it.
“Calm down, man,” Michael warned, glancing around them.
“God, sorry. I mean. . . Why the fuck would someone do this? Seriously, there is not one single thing in the world that can justify something like this!”
“I know. . . If I had the chance, the fucker would already be underground,” Michael agreed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“That bitch will be underground when I’m done here.”
Chapter 13
Mary woke to her own screaming.
“Kevin. . .” she whimpered, the word dying on her lips. “Oh my god. . .” Her arms wrapped around herself, head bowing. The room felt colder than it should have, the blankets pulled away, damp with her own sweat.
She was shaking.
The dream. . . God, the dream. Was that going to happen someday? Was it really going to be all her fault?
A harsh sob tore from her chest, her hands coming up to her face. There wasn’t any blood, she assured herself. There was no knife, no blood, no woman with venom dripping from her hands.
Mary stared down at her shaking hands, knowing that the red on her hands was. . .real. She screeched, grabbing for the sheets. “Ulrich!” she screamed helplessly, wiping her hands on the sheets till they were raw.
“Oh god, Ulrich!” Her voice, even to her own ears, sounded desperate, hysterical.
Her body moved to grab the phone by her bed, hands shaking almost bad enough that she couldn’t get the right number onto the screen.
The phone ringing was the only sound in her room, besides her jerky breaths and muted cries of panic. She prayed that he answered, that he wasn’t busy and. . .
“Mary?” a groggy voice asked.
She tried to catch her breath, only managing to let out a whimper. “Ulrich. . .”
“Mary? Mary, what’s wrong. Are you okay? C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.” No longer sleepy, but alert and awake. The sound of rustling clogged her senses, inanely making her wonder what the hell was going on.
“I had. . . Please come get me. There’s so much blood. . .” She took the phone from her ear, staring down at her hands. Faint ghostly tendrils of blood streamed down from her hand. It touched nothing but her, nothing but the hand that she had killed the man with.
“I’m on my way, okay, honey? Just stay there, don’t leave the house. I’ll be there in five minutes, promise.”
Her eyes widened, voice cracking when she begged, “No! Ulrich, please don’t hang up. Please don’t, I can’t. . . Just. . .” Mary broke down into crying.
With her eyes closed, all she could see was the dead body of the man. It felt as if the knife were still in her hands, and the woman’s open mouth flying at her seemed all to real.
“I won’t hang up, Mary,” he promised her soothingly, obviously starting to panic himself.
“Please. . .” The ashy smell was coming back. Streams of the blood were just floating around her like string in the air.
The phone fell from her ear, and she was shaking too much to get enough strength to pick it up. The memories of the dream held her in enthralled horror, re-plays going on and on. She swore that she was transported back to that demented world.
It barely registered to her that the door had opened, that her brother had barged in so violently that the whole house seemed to vibrate. “Mary, oh my god. . . Honey, Jesus, what happened?”
He strode to the bed, his voice worried. When his hands come out to touch her, she flinched before she was even aware of it. The shaking got worse; she wished that she could stop long enough to get a word out to Ulrich.
“What. . .happened,” Ulrich asked, sounding horrified. She heard him walk to the bed again, and this time he ignored her flinch and gathered her into her arms. Mary could feel the small tremor that ran through him and only wished that she hadn’t panicked and called him.
“I. . . Blood. . . The man. . .” Mary started to get frustrated when she realized she wouldn’t be able to explain through all of the endless shaking.
“Shh, it’s okay. Just calm down, Mary.” Through the soothing sound of his voice and the light pat of his hand on her back, she could hear the faint emotion of fear.
Finally, she forced her head up and somehow found the will to speak through her choked throat. “Kevin. . . He was there. I killed someone,” she said, terror lining her voice as the words quietly slipped past her lips. “I stood above him, holding the knife. Ulrich, I killed that man,” she said, voice cracking brokenly.
His head shook, hand clenching on her back. “No you didn’t. I know you would never do that, Mary. It was a bad dream, okay? Just a bad dream and it’s okay now.” There was a forced sureness in her voice that she couldn’t help but notice.
“No, I killed—”
“Mary, you didn’t,” he said, the back of his teeth grinding.
“Yes, my hands are blo—”
“No you fucking didn’t, Mary.” The bark of his voice made her wince, her eyes dropping to her hands. No longer was the ghostly faint blood dripping from her hands.
Climbing off of him, she slowly shook her head and turned from him. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she whispered, opening the door with a shaking hand.
Ulrich stood, hand coming out imploringly, his face lined with regret. “I’m sorry, I just. . .Don’t say things like that, ever. I’m a cop, I can’t be hearing my own sister talking about murdering people.”
A humming sound started in the back of her mind. She wished she hadn’t have called him, hadn’t have rejected his offer to stay with him. God, she was fucked up in the head.
“I’m tired, Ulrich. Thank you for coming over and checking up on me.” Even to her own ears her voice was distant, entranced by horrific thoughts that didn’t seem to want to leave.
He hesitated, forest green eyes worried. After a moment, he sighed and she watched as his shoulders dropped. “Okay. . . The people for the security system will be here tomorrow.”
Mary nodded, avoided looking at him.
“See you tomorrow,” he said quietly, walking out of the room.
She waited till she heard the car back out of the drive way, then fell to her head, sobbing quietly.
Chapter 14
Chase and Raff walked to their rooms in silence, trying to place the facts that they had learned. The girl, Ashlyn, had been ruthlessly murdered. The body, though charred to the bone, had been identified by her parents and when the Acutos doctor has seen the blood red signs he had burnt his hand touching her.
Raff had no clue how the runt of a half-breed knew all of this, but he was grateful for the facts. On the car ride back, he had asked Chase to look into veneficae, meaning witch, or magic. Anything that might connect to the red symbol that had seemed to be. . .burned into her skin.
Mitch had seen firsthand the evidence of the incriminating signs. When Michael had pulled out the photos, he had been more than shocked. In the
past, he had seen some horrible things. Bad enough to give him permanent nightmares, enough to keep him awake at night when they got bad enough.
But what he saw in the picture, it had just. . .scared him. Pissed him off to no ends. Made him feel as if the world was crumbling around him when he applied that to Mary. Chase had turned away sharply, coughing and cursing.
The deformed picture had brought back memories, brought back the feel of blades in his palm, the feel of blades in his skin. Life had taken a horrible turn for him when he had realized that his father had lied, had run, had used him.
When he had been assigned as leader of the pacchetto, he had been. . .disinterested, only slightly angry. As a child he had been told the day would come, but before that happened he had been recruited as a monster, or at least that’s what he had thought of himself at the time.
“I’ll text you when I’m up,” Chase let him know, before closing the door to his suite. Raff walked to his, unlocked it, and stepped into the dark room, flipping on the light switch.
Raffaele sighed, staring around the room. Lately, he had been more relaxed. It was an off and on sensation, but after his meeting with Mary it had kind of. . .lasted. Like a while. Till he had gotten to the bar, that is.
He pulled out his phone, sitting at the bar in one of the high chairs. He had four texts, two of them from his beta, the other two being his secretary. He also had seven missed calls.
Raffaele groaned with irritation, knowing that with the time difference they would still be up and about. Well, at least his secretary would be. The woman never slept, at least in the closing your eyes sense.
The phone was picked up on the first ring. “I tried calling you five times! What are you up to that you can’t answer the phone?” Hannah asked, exasperated.
Raffaele’s eye twitched. “I had things to do,” he said vaguely.
“Oh, and like what? Because I’m here running your “business” and you can take time off to get a good lay? Mr. Jaques, I will quit!” she threatened, the mental image of her stabbing a finger in the air coming to mind.
