He gently kissed her and let her go. He treaded water for a few minutes, then closed his eyes and tried to sink.
He sank. Lower and lower, the air bubbling out of his lungs.
That's when he felt something grab him and he unexpectedly was pushed to the surface, breaking out of the water with a gasp, sucking in huge amounts of fresh air. He looked all around. The lake was empty. He began swimming back to the dock, trying to think up a story as he swam.
It was nightfall when his Aunt and Uncle arrived after a frantic drive from Houston through the rain. The rain had finally stopped, the clouds cleared, and the sky was golden in the late evening. The Comal County sheriff, Robert Franks, was there waiting. A thin, middle aged man with short blond hair with areas of gray showing. His face was lined with a resting "sorrowful" look, a result of seeing too many of these types of tragedies. This was the fourth drowning this summer.
"George, Barbara?" Robert said, his mouth set in a grim line. "I'm glad you left the younger ones behind as I'd asked."
"What happened?" George asked. It was all he could get out. He looked at the ambulance, it's back doors open, lights off. Two EMTs were leaning against the bumper and watching the scene.
"Well, earlier this afternoon, the young man, Kyle --" he started.
"Yes, my nephew," George interrupted.
"Well, he called and was in a panic. Seems he and this cousin of his went swimming and they were quite a distance offshore when the rain hit and he said he saw her go under and then he said he swam for an hour trying to find her, then swam back in and phoned us."
George held Barbara tightly as Robert told the rest of the story. "We've been dragging the lake now for three hours and nothing."
"How is Kyle?" Barbara asked.
"I have him upstairs, the doctor gave him something to help him sleep. He was pretty frantic. He just wouldn't stop shaking and his teeth were chattering like it was ice and snow out here."
"I need to call his father," Barbara said, "My brother. They live in Houston."
"I know, he was finally able to tell us more," Robert said. He then looked back as the radio on his belt crackled to life. "Hang on a second, please."
He walked a few yards away and spoke into the microphone. He stood and looked out at the lake, and saw the patrol boat swing out of the main channel of the lake and glide towards the boat dock. He walked back to George and Barbara.
"You folks need to go inside. They found her, and it'd be best to let us take her in and figure out what happened," Robert said, his hand firm on George's shoulder.
As the older couple walked into the house, Robert turned, strode quickly to the dock and watched the boat pull in. He grabbed a line and tied it fast to a cleat, then stood back. He spotted the small figure covered by a blue blanket. They had laid her on the deck, and two recovery divers had that look in their eyes of having to recover a once vital young woman from the depths of the lake.
He stood and watched as two more deputies carefully laid her on the dock, and the EMTs gently picked her up and placed her on the gurney. The blanket slipped away from her face. Robert stopped the EMTs, and tenderly placed the blanket back over the face. A face that was still quite pretty even in death, the lifeless pale blue eyes staring up into the evening sky.
He watched as the gurney was rolled across the dock and back to the ambulance. He then looked up to the house. The bedroom window was dark, but he thought he saw movement. Was that kid still up, even after the sedatives?
Kyle was in the window of the bedroom, just watching. He watched the sheriff briefly, saw him looking up, but he knew he was safe. Then he turned and went back to the bed. That was when he saw the darkness in the corner of the bedroom. It'd been there all week, just in the corner. Like the dead rattlesnake, the darkness both scared him and fascinated him.
It reached out and whispered: I WILL PROTECT YOU.
The words were not in his ears, they were in his head.
The words echoed like a whisper in a cavern. They echoed with darkness.
***
Present day
Kyle awoke again. The last visions of the dream floating in his head. Was it really all just a dream now? Kyle was amazed he managed to get away with it, in fact, somehow the girl’s lungs did have water in them, which helped his story. No mention was ever made of the marks on her throat.
He was pushed to get up, now. He stumbled into the bathroom, and stared at his face in the mirror. His eyes were dark circles with points of blue staring back at him, his face lined and grainy. He needed food, a shower, and a shave.
Back by the bed, there was a left over fast food bag, and the hamburger was still ok. He downed it, followed by a can of stale soda.
Shower.
Shave.
He was being pushed out again. It drove him onward. But why stay in this damned town? But why? It answered.
THE NEED. THE NEED.
That goddamned need. IT needed. Like a bum's need for Thunderbird, a junkie's need for heroin, a meth head's need for the pipe.
The need. And the need propelled him.
Time to go hunting.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
San Marin Greenbelt
A bright moon illuminated the jogging trail. It was easy to see the trail, bathed in a silver light, but the shadows were deep in darkness.
Kyle was very wary walking along this part of the greenbelt. Too near the crime scene. He figured he could make an excuse if anyone stopped him. Flash the FBI badge, act official, then continue on.
Kyle was being propelled towards a destination. He never knew what these trips were for, but he was pushed, often late at night, into an area of wilderness.
He looked around as his body was guided along the jogging path. Oak and pine trees lined the path. There was one odd tree towering over the rest, bizarre limb pattern. Kyle figured it was a disguised cell-tower.
Kyle finally neared a dense stand of oaks trees. As he started to pass the trees, he stopped.
Kyle looked around. The jogging trail continued on ahead, but he was in a very secluded area. There was movement in the trees. A shape low the ground, moving slowly towards him.
A coyote moved out of the shadows cast by the trees. It moved slowly, eyeing Kyle. Its head was low to the ground, stalking. Kyle tried to move away, but he was held firm by the Beast inside. The animal moved closer, it's eyes watching Kyle for any sudden moves.
Like before in Arizona, Kyle found himself uttering strange words. An old language, almost sounding like a man trying to clear his throat of phlegm. The coyote appeared to nod its head, then it turned and leapt away, back into the shadows.
Suddenly freed of the force pushing him, Kyle turned and started back the way he'd come. His small car parked in the same parking area occupied by the cops a few days ago.
Then he felt the familiar nudge.
The thrill of the hunt.
***
Dickey's Nightclub
The small nightclub was jammed packed with a mix of the usual after-work crowd and college students looking for happy hour specials.
Kyle looked the crowd over and decided it was a target-rich environment. At least, until he spotted Jones seated at the bar with two fellow officers. After a moment, Kyle decided that blending into the crowd was the best way to handle this. He knew he'd be spotted by Jones if he tried to reverse course and walk back out.
Instead, he made his way along the wall towards the back of the bar, keeping an eye on Jones. Jones was busy drinking a mug draft beer, talking, and gesturing to the television on the wall; a basketball game in progress that few were actually watching.
Kyle found a seat at a tiny table along the rear wall. He could keep an eye on the homicide detective and still look for targets. It was very risky staying in the same area. He knew he had to keep moving, but It wouldn't allow him to move along. Something was the focus of attention in this small town, and damned if he knew what it was. It wasn't talking. It was pushing, and pushing hard
. It always got what It wanted.
Kyle watched as Jones downed the beer and slapped money on the bar. He stood, laughing, and slipped on his jacket. He kept smiling and joking, then touched his drinking buddy on the shoulder and bid him goodnight.
Ah, hunting season is finally open! Kyle tried not to smirk as he surveyed the rest of the crowd.
Jones was on his way out when he spotted Kyle reflected in a mirror by the door. He frowned and started to turn, but decided to keep going; then make a note of the sighting when he got to this car.
Sitting next to the drinking buddy was a young woman, fresh out of the police academy in Fresno. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. Kyle took in the woman: Tall, blonde, young. Dressed in a black mini-dress, long, alabaster legs ending with sensible black shoes. The shoes weren't a perfect match, but it showed she cared enough to try.
He leisurely made his way to the bar and took the next to her right, not making eye contact as he flagged down the bartender. "Whiskey, neat. Maker's Mark, please," Kyle smiled at the pretty bartender, Amanda, a college student working her way through school. But Kyle's sights were set on the rookie officer to his left. He purposely ordered the same drink she was drinking.
"Hey!" the young woman nudged him. "Do I know you?"
Kyle turned his predatory smile towards the young woman. "I don't believe so," he said, leaning towards her.
She studied him a moment, and then it clicked. "Yes! I saw you yesterday, at the police station. You and Jones were walking to Dan's office!" She thrust out her hand and smiled. "I'm Kelsey Franklin."
Kyle took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure I'd have remembered seeing you at the station." He flashed his smile.
"I'm new there, currently on traffic patrol, but I'm ambitious and planning on making detective in two years, max."
"In two years? I admire your drive, Miss Franklin," Kyle said. Then he turned on the smile. That smile. Those eyes. His smile made his eyes crinkle the way Kelsey's favorite tennis coach did in college.
"Please, I'm Kelsey to my friends." She raised her glass and Kyle returned the toast.
"I'm Kyle," he said.
"Hi Kyle. You know," Kelsey said in conspiratorial tones, "Word at the station is that you're a Federal agent."
"Well, yes. But, I'm just an FBI profiler, not a real special agent," he pointed out.
"You're still a Fed!"
"Guys I went to the academy with don't seem to think so," Kyle recalled.
Kelsey finished her whiskey and sat the glass on the bar, and fixed Kyle with a steady gaze. "Bullshit. You're still a special agent in my book."
Kyle smiled as he lifted his glass. He signaled the bartender. "Another, Miss Kelsey?"
"Sure!"
The bartender sat two more glasses of brown-amber liquid on the bar, and Kyle took them both. He then sat one glass in front of Kelsey. She picked it up and proposed another toast, "Here's to some serious interdepartmental cooperation!"
He drank, watching Kelsey carefully. She had a great smile. What was being revealed by the dress was making his heart beat faster.
Outside, Jones sat in his car for a few minutes, feeling the effects of the beer. He didn't want to drive until his head was totally clear. So, he concentrated on making notes on his tablet about what he'd observed of Kyle at the bar. He looked around and made himself comfortable. He started writing, occasionally looking up at the door to the bar. Jones stared wondering if Kyle was there until it closed, or if he was cruising for women. Or men. You can't tell these days. Dickey's wasn't the type of bar frequented by single men on the prowl, same sex or otherwise. And lately, Jones thought, there was a lot of "otherwise" in the mix.
After a few minutes, he'd completed his report and felt steady enough to drive. He started up his car, and gently eased it onto the small street, heading home.
Kelsey was slamming drinks down while Kyle kept sipping his drink slowly. He laughed when she laughed and he kept himself turned towards her as she grew more and more unsteady.
It was just about time. He signaled the bartender again and intercepted the two drinks again. As he turned, one hand slipped a small vial out of a jacket pocket. He flipped the cap off, and dumped the clear liquid into the glass.
He swirled the liquid, making sure it dissolved completely. He checked the glass and no signs of the liquid. Even if there was a sign, this girl was drunk enough not to care.
He placed the glass in front of Kelsey. She picked it up and slammed the drink back. She licked her lips and sat the glass down on the bar. Kyle just swirled his, watching Kelsey carefully. Almost time.
"You know, you're really my type." Kyle said, while a hint of a smile rippled across his lips. Kelsey reached out to touch his lips, and missed.
"Whoo, weee. This really goes to my head." She looked down, her bright blonde hair falling across her face. She tilted her head up and got a shot of vertigo.
Kyle was ready. He placed a couple of bills on the bar and signaled the bartender. "Is this enough?"
She looked at the three twenty-dollar bills.
"Yeah, hold on, I'll get your change."
"Don't bother, keep it," Kyle said as he steadied Kelsey and began walking her out of the bar. Amanda just waved and made change anyway, then stuffed the extra into a huge tip jar. She turned her attention back to the college crowd.
Outside, Kyle deftly steered the semi-conscious Kelsey to his car. He deposited her in the passenger seat and, whistling, went around to the driver's door.
Inside the car, Kelsey leaned against Kyle and looked up at him. "God, kiss me before I pass out, okay?" She pulled him in for a tight embrace and a long, lasting kiss. She let go as the drugs in the whiskey reached full effect. She slumped into the seat, a quiet snore emitting from her parted lips.
Kyle grinned as he started the car and drove off, being extra careful to avoid being noticed by any police patrols.
***
Kelsey came to, bound at the wrists and ankles, tied tightly to a chair in the middle of a dark room. She looked up and saw a single, bare light bulb hanging in a small fixture just above her. She was also gagged, tightly. She struggled against the ropes as she desperately looked around. Her trained eyes gathered in frightening information: Black plastic spread out in all directions, including the walls. No sign of windows, no furniture. Where the hell was she?
Oh, shit! A remote location, most likely sound proof. Nylon ropes, no way to loosen or break.
She recognized how much trouble was in. No hope of escape, except try to get the guy talking. If he could see her as a person, then maybe, just maybe.
Kyle walked into the cone of light. He carried another chair and sat down facing her. He crossed his legs, and smoothed out the crease in his trousers. He simply looked at Kelsey.
"I wasn't planning on another kill in this town, you know," Kyle explained. "I usually hit, put the body on display, showing off my more artistic talents, then I move on." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I have tried to be merciful. I have tried resisting, but 'It' insists on as much pain and fear as possible. But I keep going. Know why? It's such a fucking turn-on!"
He moved closer, and gently looked into her bright blue eyes which were pleading with him. Tears began to form.
"I'm so terribly sorry. You look like such a nice girl." He knelt in front of her and placed his right hand on her knee. He stroked her knee and brought his hand up, ever so slowly, to the hem of her skirt. "Maybe, just maybe, he'll be merciful if you cooperate?"
Her eyes widened. Kyle stood up and pulled the stiletto switchblade from his pocket. He snapped open the blade and smiled as Kelsey's eyes went wide. He knelt again in front of her. He gently lifted the dress and began to slowly slice upwards, the razor-sharp blade easily cutting the material, revealing her bare legs.
He stopped and looked up into her eyes. "Can I ask? Are you... Are you a natural blonde?"
Kelsey cocked her head. What the hell is this?
; "Never mind, I'll find out in a second! I love the thrill of anticipation, you know? What will I find? A true natural blonde is a beautiful thing to behold."
Kelsey squeezed her eyes closed, and groaned. When she opened her eyes, she was astonished to see a dark cloud forming behind Kyle. Her eyes opened even wider as the black mass formed into a vaguely human shape. It reached out and touched Kyle.
The knife continued up, slicing fabric past her hips and then up the front of her dress. The dress fell aside. Kelsey's breath grew rapid as Kyle began touching her skin.
Please let this some twisted role-playing, she prayed. Once I'm loose, I'll killing this asshole.
His hands stopped over her panties, and then he slipped the knife into her panties, slicing the fabric. He looked at her exposed, clean-shaven womanhood.
"Oh my." He sat back, pursing his lips.
"Well, now. No way to tell, really." He smiled and began slicing off the remaining fabric of her dress. She watched as the cloud behind Kyle grew darker.
Then Kyle began to strip the rest of the dress off Kelsey and stood back, marveling at her nude body. He giggled like a school boy as he caressed her breasts. Then his eyes glowed red, a demonic light flashed. Matching the black cloud behind him.
In an instant, the red was gone and his eyes returned to their light blue.
"I am so very, very sorry. I'd much rather fuck than kill, and you look like you'd be fantastic in bed. Want to make love now?"
Kelsey's eyes relaxed and she started nodding her head. Yes! YES! Just untie me!
Kyle stood up. His trousers indicated he was quite excited. He grinned.
"Well, unfortunately, that'd leave behind DNA. Can't have that." His hand jumped out and the knife pierced her skin between her breasts, and he began carving a circle. She grunted in pain and twisted. Grinning madly, Kyle grabbed her by the hair and twisted her head sideways. He began to cut symbols, and the blood flowed down Kelsey's face as he carved. Her eyes fluttered, and, mercifully, consciousness left her as Kyle continued to work.
Angels of Vengeance: The Furies, Book 1 Page 13
