Megaera stepped out of the cone of light. She slowly closed in on Pablo. He kept his eye on her as he slowly reached into the cab of the truck. His hands fumbled, then grabbed the handle of a machete. He pulled it out and swung wildly at Megaera.
Megaera jumped back and cocked her head at Pablo, now waving the machete like it was a sword. It could still be lethal. "Could" is the operative word.
"Hey, I got this, Meg," Alecto announced as she stepped forward, unsheathing her katana in a single, fluid movement.
Megaera stepped aside. Alecto closed in and swung her katana. Pablo deftly deflected the attack and stepped away from the truck, so he was clear to back up.
He circled to the left as Alecto simply watched. Pablo was brandishing his machete like a small knife and Alecto was just playing with him. He was wary at first, then as Alecto stopped attacking, he decided to move in for the attack. Swinging the machete, he lunged. Alecto easily side stepped and tripped him as he passed.
He pushed himself up from the sandy ground, incensed at this woman who was playing with him.
"Gee, I guess Pablo doesn't want to play tonight?" Megaera observed.
"Who sent you? You're not from Castañeda!" Pablo snarled.
"No. But we do have a score to settle," Megaera pointed out. She locked eyes with him.
"Importing your own family as sex slaves," Alecto said. "Tch. And your own niece."
Pablo was shaken. His focus swings from one Fury to the other. "Who told you!"
"Sabrina," Alecto answered.
"Impossible, because..." Pablo stammered.
"We know, you killed her." Megaera answered.
Alecto leveled her katana at Pablo, then started a gentle series of attacks, each designed to back Pablo up into the scrub brush. He noticed and began to move in a circle.
"See, sweetie? This is how you control a subject," Alecto said.
"Hey, I was interfered with. You know, that cop." Megaera protested. Pablo noticed her again, and tried to keep both in his line of view.
"No, you lost control. You went too easy on that cop, anyway," Alecto reminded her. "You've lost your touch."
"I have not!" Megaera said. She then locked eyes with Pablo, and caused him to stumble back into a patch of cactus. He rose screaming. Hundreds of needles piercing his backside. His eyes were wide with pain and fear.
"Alright. Here," Alecto tossed the katana to Megaera, who snatched it out of the air with grace. "You're sweet on that cop, though, aren't you? Be careful not to lose your head over him."
Pablo chose that moment to attack. He charged at Megaera, swinging the machete. Megaera advanced, slicing at Pablo.
"I'm not 'sweet' on him," Megaera answered.
Megaera stepped to the side and swiftly swung the katana, cleanly slicing Pablo's head from his body. The head landed in the dirt, eyes still blinking. Megaera stepped to the head and looked into Pablo's eyes as life drained from them. "I'm not one to lose my head. Unlike you, Pablo, baby. See you in Tartarus."
Megaera tossed the katana back to Alecto, who slid it back into its saya.
Megaera strode to the back of the truck. She grasped the lock and twisted, breaking it apart like it was a toy. She lifted and the door rolled up into the roof, exposing several small girls, some as young as five or six, huddled together at the front end of the space. Alecto walked around and looked.
"How did you know?"
Megaera shrugged. "It's his style."
She waved at the children, "C'mon! You're all safe. Wait. Todos afuera! ¡Estás seguro! ¡Vamonos!"
"We are not taking them home, are we?" Alecto said as she helped a child down from the truck.
"They'll have company shortly." Megaera looked up as a small shape flew across the desert, swung back around, and began hovering overhead.
***
The Furies House
Brianna was drifting along the wall in Alecto's domain. The wall held an impressive collection of edged weapons. Brianna had no idea what she was looking at, but one looked familiar.
Alecto materialized in the room and observed Brianna for a moment. Brianna turned and smiled.
"That one, that's what the guy had." Brianna pointed at a stiletto.
"Oh, that one, huh? A nasty weapon. That one is 17th century. I prefer Japanese steel. It's elegantly lethal." Alecto held up her katana and unsheathed it in one single elegant movement. Then she took it to a table and picked up a piece of silk. She began polishing the blade.
"This is so cool! Like a museum," Brianna said. "What is this one?"
"A medieval broad sword," Alecto said. "The one it it's left is a Japanese Wakizashi, then a Tanto. See how short it is? Great for close in fighting, or hari-kari. The one you pointed to is an Italian stiletto."
"They're in such good condition. How long have you had them?"
Alecto smiled. "A long, long time. Time doesn't pass for me here as it does for you mortals. What was your last century was my last week. Sorta. It's a non-linear time thing." Alecto shrugged. "Tisiphone can explain it."
"Is that what you'll use on my killer?" Brianna pointed at Alecto's katana.
"I'd love to, sweetie." Alecto explained. "Tisiphone has the petition, she was the first one you talked to, so she gets the all fun. I'm just going to track him down for you."
"I have no idea where to even start. I am sorta new to all this," Brianna looked down, upset.
Alecto stepped to the middle of the room. "Focus on his face. You remember it, right?"
The room began to spin, the walls receded into darkness as a glow began in the center of the room. A mist formed that flattened into a huge computer-type of display. "His eyes, remember?"
"Oh yes, those eyes," Brianna recalled.
The killer's eyes appeared on the screen. "Now, we're getting somewhere."
***
San Marin Police Station
Dan was busy at his desk the next day. Instead of the pile of reports to go over, files to read, he was busy surfing the internet.
After reading a few plays with the Furies as characters, plus a few passages of Dante's Inferno, he was now on a screen pondering a painting of Orestes being chased by The Furies, hands as claws, snakes for hair.
Image after image: Pottery from the era, Furies on chariots, a woodcut of Cronus castrating Uranus, "drops" of blood falling into the foaming sea. The next image made Dan recoil; a closeup of a Fury, eyes red, hair filled with snakes.
"Ugh. I'm not good with snakes," he remarked as he closed the browser.
Jones picked that moment to poke his head in, "What about snakes?"
"Nothing," Dan said as he pushed away from the monitor on his desk.
"Hear anything from the FBI profiler?"
"Not a thing. Anything from his supervisor in Sacramento?" Dan slid a file off the stack.
"Haven't heard back yet."
"Okay, try to follow up on that and let me work." Dan busied himself with the file. Jones slipped out and quietly shut the door. Dan couldn't help himself, he turned back to the computer and brought up the search again. This time he started seeing images of the Furies from the later poems and he started reading. Eventually, he read, the Furies were guardians of Athens, and not confined to the Underworld.
CHAPTER TWELVE
San Marin
In a low rent motel near the edge of town, a figure cast a shadow on the drawn blind. Inside, Kyle paced. Nervous, his face gray with dark circles under his eyes, his jaws haggard. He hadn't slept in almost a week.
IT kept him awake.
He stopped pacing when the TV abruptly snapped itself on. The news, noise disturbing his quiet.
"The gruesome discovery of the body of a San Marin College student is still in the headlines tonight," the blonde reporter said. The background changed to one of an older man. She continued, "San Marin Police Chief Carson Peterson released a statement just hours ago, saying the department is looking into all leads and expect an arrest within hours."
"What? No!
That's not right. I know they're far from knowing who it is." Kyle rubbed his hands together, the palms itching. "It's all public spin. Satisfy the citizens, that's all!"
A blackness enveloped his vision. "Yes, that reporter would be a good target, yes. Hey! I have no idea how I'd find her. No! I can't kill again here, in this town! I refuse! If I do, then they'll catch up with me!"
Kyle looked at the middle of the small room. A black cloud appeared, writhing darkness, edges rippling as if thousands of faces were trying to form, mouths open in silent screams. Demonic faces bubbling up in the black cloud, each horrible face appearing, mouth opening and then dissolving. The darkness grew and moved towards Kyle, filling his vision. Two red orbs formed, growing closer and closer.
"No! Stop! It burns! It burns!"
Kyle fell onto the floor, writhing in agony. "No! I can't! Not again in this town! No! Just let me hunt! Just let me go hunting! There are other women far away!"
Then more spasms as pain wracked his body. "Why can't we move on? Please let's move ON!"
He rolled, teeth clenched as his head snapped back and forth, foam appearing on his lips as he began shaking.
"I know," was all he got out between the clenched teeth. "I know!" He suddenly screamed out, "I KNOW!"
He rolled around. He managed to climb to his feet and stagger into the bathroom. He bent over the toilet and began to vomit. He stared at the vomit in the toilet, black specs, like he'd eaten coffee grounds. Was his stomach bleeding?
The pain quickly stopped and Kyle rolled onto his back, sweating. He closed his eyes.
"You don't understand. We must travel. No two murders in the same area. You can't protect me forever! I just want to stay quiet for a week. Then go hunting. I love the hunt, you know that! If I stay here, they'll arrest me, then what will happen? No, I do not want to get caught! Okay. Yes. Sleep now. Yes. Yes."
He was allowed to stand up. He washed his face and slowly made his way to the bed. He slowly relaxed and fell into a deep, but troubled, sleep.
Then the dreams started. Dreams of the lake, the two-story house. Fifteen long, long years ago. Images floated in his head: The boat dock, a ski boat tied up, bobbing as the waves hit the shore, the house, the patio, the old grill.
***
Canyon Lake, Texas
Each summer during Kyle's formative years, he was sent off to spend summer in the country with his Aunt Barbara and Uncle George. They were the successful people in the family, easily able to afford a summer home away from the hot and humid summers in Houston, an area of the country where, in August, the humidity and temperature would race each other to see which hit 100 first. It was usually a tie.
Nestled in the Texas hill country between Austin and San Antonio is Canyon Lake. Each summer, as soon as school was over, Kyle's Aunt and Uncle would load up the kids and move everyone to the lake house. Granted, it wasn't much cooler than their city house, but the lake and the country nights were so much better.
That spring, Kyle had just turned 16. He spent his entire fifteenth year building himself up so that he could compete for a spot on the high school football squad. His goal was to make Varsity while still a Junior. After weight-training, at last he possessed the build to be seen as an equal on the football field. His preteen years and early teens saw him shoot up to over six feet tall, but the rest of him lagged behind. All legs and arms, moving every-which-way as his huge feet plodded along.
He had enrolled in a weight-building program after school, which toned and massed muscle on his tall frame. He might look like a healthy young man, but his brain still said "kid".
That summer also saw someone new: A cousin from his father's side of the family. His aunt had invited her to spend the summer, flying her in from Atlanta, where her parents ran businesses: Her father owned several large Chrysler-Dodge dealerships and her mother sold houses. Her father had hopes of enrolling young Bobbie into the University of Georgia, now that she had been the valedictorian in her graduating High School class. Bobbie Banks shared the same last name, but was virtually unknown by the Texas branch of the family.
Kyle was doing some maintenance on the boat dock, replacing worn and splintered boards when his Aunt arrived with Bobbie. He stopped after pulling the large nails from the old boards, rose, stretching backwards. He watched Bobbie appear from behind the silver SUV. She was tall, lithe, with pale blonde hair, smooth as silk. All she was carrying was a small suitcase. She stopped and looked at Kyle, then turned and walked on inside, ignoring him.
He snorted and went back to the work at hand. He had finished pulling the one rotted board, so he picked up a pre-cut board. Kyle's bare shoulders were getting bronzed in the bright noon sun of Texas, now glistening with sweat as he placed the new board into its spot, and then drove a decking screw to secure the outside edge. He worked his way around to the other side of the dock, pulling the old boards and securing the new ones. He stopped and inspected his work, then looked back up to the house.
Inside, Bobbie was shown to a corner room she was to share with her tween cousin, Juliette. She bounced on the twin bed as Barbara dropped the suitcase by the dresser.
"You can unpack into the top three drawers and pick a side in the closet," Aunt Barbara sighed. She went to a window and parted the curtains. A beige window AC was installed, and Barbara pointed to it. "Run this whenever you feel too warm. We spend most of the day in the water, so we don't run the ACs except at night, to cool the rooms so we can sleep."
Bobbie walked to the other window that overlooked the lake.
"Oh my," Bobbie was wide eyed. The view was stunning. The area was filled with lush scrub oaks and deep green cedar trees, the lawn thick with Saint Augustine grass all the way from the patio to the water's edge. She watched Kyle work for a minute.
"Who's that? A hired handyman?" she asked.
"That's your cousin Kyle. We always have him out here in the summer, just to get him away from staying by himself while his folks work. Both have to work you know, and there's always the possibility he'll start running with the wrong sort if left alone at home all summer. Lordy, he's gotten so big, I barely recognized him when I went by to pick him up," Barbara replied. "He volunteered to replace those old, rotted boards for your Uncle George, since his back started giving him all those issues, he can't do the maintenance like he used to."
"Okay. I guess I just don't remember a Kyle. He looks... crude," Bobbie remarked.
"Well, his folks aren't as well off as we all are, hon." Barbara turned and smiled. "The good Lord doesn't smile on each and every one of us."
There was a splash, and Bobbie watched as Kyle swam out from the dock, cooling off. He swam back to the dock, and easily hauled himself up and shook his head, his light brown hair flinging water. He stopped, looked back to the house, then bent to work, loosing up another plank by pulling the nails. The new decking looked out of place, so he began removing the rest of the gray weathered boards. There was plenty of new lumber for the whole dock, might as well go on and replace it all before someone steps on a bad board and hurts themselves.
The sun had set below the small hills along the west side of the lake. Uncle George was grilling chicken on a stainless gas grill, and Aunt Barbara was inside setting the table for supper. She placed six plates around the table and began setting out the silverware as Bobbie showed up.
"Anything you want me to do?" she asked.
"Find out what Julie wants to drink, she's so hard to please, lately. Kyle usually has just water and Billy has the usual grape soda. Once you know what they want, you can then set out the glasses, ok?" she replied.
Bobbi went into the family room and stood next to the skinny girl playing a video game. Juliette was in the process of defeating her younger brother in a road racing game. "What do you want to drink?" she asked.
"Oh, whatever you're having, Bobbie," she grinned, showing a large number of teeth with brand-new braces.
Bobbie turned to head back to the kitchen when Kyle appeared at the b
ottom of the stairs, drying himself off after a shower, his hair a mass of wet tangles as he toweled his head. He stopped and looked at Bobbie. She frowned.
"I'm not sure how you were raised, but we certainly do not come downstairs for dinner until we're fully groomed," she said. Her look was dripping with disapproval.
Kyle mumbled and ducked his head, then ran back up the stairs.
Bobbie watched him tromp up the stairs and went on into the kitchen. Barbara was working on a salad. "What did Juliette say?"
"We're both having iced tea," she replied and began pulling glasses out of the cabinet. "And I had to correct Kyle, as he wasn't ready for dinner."
"I usually just let the kids be themselves while we're out here," Barbara was busy slicing a plump tomato.
"Shaking off sloppy wet hair is rather crude, at least where I was raised." With that, Bobbie went to set out the drinks on the table.
A short time later, at dinner, all Kyle could do was sit and eat, as Bobbie and his Uncle George dominated the table discussion revolving around Bobbie's accomplishments, her high GPA, her prowess at Volleyball, and her drive to pledge a sorority while attending the University of Georgia.
At one point, George tried to get Kyle involved in the conversation, asking him his goals.
Kyle looked up from his crispy chicken drumsticks and shrugged. "I haven't made up my mind yet. I just want to make the Varsity team this fall, then possibly a scholarship to a college."
"Studying what?" George asked as he refilled his plate with potato salad.
"Possibly journalism, maybe law enforcement," Kyle replied, then went back to the chicken.
"An honorable profession. One good way into law enforcement is through the army," George mused. "I know a lot of young kids try not to go that route, but it'd be best for you, given your modest circumstances."
"Yes, I understand," Kyle mumbled.
As soon as dinner was finished, Bobbie volunteered to help clear the table, and Kyle wandered outside, looked up at the sky. Twilight, the setting sun still lighting up the western sky. The eastern sky a deep purple. A crystal-clear sky. He ambled to the dock. After taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness, Kyle plopped down onto the dock, and now he could take in the dark sky. The sky was very dark at the lake house and the stars were out in full, the central core of the Milky Way stretched out across the blackness, from overhead and across to the south.
Angels of Vengeance: The Furies, Book 1 Page 11
