The Devil's Eye

by J. R. Rain

  With a grunt, I leap the expanding swath of water behind the boat and land on the deck in an open area between facing blue benches. Rick jumps in behind me, but slips and goes face down on the bench to the left next to a bundle of provisions Alan had been packing up. Two patrol officers chance the ever-expanding jump to the accelerating boat: one guy winds up clinging to the back end, his legs in the water, the second officer doesn’t reach the boat and disappears, only a hat floating where he went under.

  Alan turns hard to the right, pointing the boat down the pier row toward open water. I wave my arms for balance, but still fall sitting on the right-side bench. The maneuver dumps Rick flat onto the floor again.

  The last two cops decide against the impossible jump and continue sprinting down the pier, trying to keep up with us.

  “Stop the boat!” I shout, leaping to my feet after we straighten out. I point my weapon into the control house.

  Rick hurls himself up. Alan jerks the wheel, tossing me stumbling to the right and almost straight over the side into the water, but unintentionally helping my partner find his footing.

  Growling, Rick storms forward, but leaps away an instant before a gun goes off. The report drowns out any sound of a strike on the hull, but fiberglass splinters fly near the back left corner. Rick cringes against the bench seat, sticks his arm out, and fires rapidly, blind into the cabin.

  Hoping his barrage makes Alan duck, I shove up from the padded bench and dart forward, keeping to the right so Alan can’t see me, halting with my shoulder against the frame of the cabin door. Half a breath later, I risk a quick peek.

  Alan fires at the wall, trying to shoot through it and hit Rick. The ricochet of the bullet zinging around inside the cabin makes him flinch.

  “Drop it!” I shout, swinging into the doorway and staring into his eyes over my gunsights. If he twitches, I’m putting another hole in his face. Or… I feel it. A gym bag on the floor sits at the fringe of my awareness like another living person is in the room with me. The curse. It’s trying to kill Alan, and it wants to use me to do it. “Alan… don’t be stupid. The curse wan―”

  No emotion on his face, Alan spins to aim at me.

  The black energy wants me to, but I don’t fire. I’m no murderer.

  Surprisingly, I don’t feel afraid. The Goddess is with me. Indeed, I sense Caius’ smile as he casts a spell of protection over me…

  Alan’s gun clicks.

  “Drop it now!” I shout. “Don’t―”

  Rick’s shot goes off above and behind me. Alan twists away and to his right, his weapon flying from the hand of his limp arm. He hits the ground in a heap, clutching his bleeding shoulder while screaming past clenched teeth.

  I’m about to pounce and contain him when a flash of white in the windows catches my eye.

  “Oh, shit!” I shout. Docked boats rapidly fill the windscreen.

  I leap for the controls while Rick jumps on the snarling Alan. I twist the wheel to the right, and holy shit, it’s not a car. A little bit of turn goes a long way. Overcorrecting, I fishtail and sideswipe the prow of a parked boat (a big improvement from crashing headlong into it) and we carom back into the lane between piers. Alan and Rick slide across the cabin and slam into the opposite wall. A scream from outside tells me we lost the clinging cop on impact.

  Another row of boats, docked on the right side, approaches fast. My hair flies everywhere, but one eye remains uncovered. I yank the wheel back the other way and more or less straighten out in the lane between piers. Immediate panic at not smashing into something gone, I guess (correctly) that the lever next to the wheel is the throttle, and ram it all the way down.

  Angry rumbling comes from the engine behind me an instant before the boat lurches forward, throwing me chest-first into the wheel. The guys wrestling on the floor smash into the front wall, legs in the air for a second before they crash back down, Rick on top of Alan/Nelson, who howls.

  “Oops! Sorry,” I whisper, pushing myself up off the wheel.

  When the engine keeps on growling, it hits me that I slam-shifted into reverse. Not wanting to back into any other boats, I shove the lever up to the middle. The engine rumble dies down to a soft idling purr. Well, at least I found the boat equivalent of stomping on the brakes. We’re drifting still, but not too fast.

  I help wrestle the still-struggling Alan over onto his chest. He screams when Rick wrenches his right arm around behind his back and holds him down so I can apply handcuffs.

  “Wims, you’re way too nice. You would’ve been justified firing.” Rick, out of breath, stares at me with sweat dripping off his nose. He looks genuinely worried. “That’s going to get you killed. You are beyond lucky that weapon misfired.”

  “Yeah.” I lean my knee into Alan’s back to keep him still. “Lucky… like that puddle of transmission fluid that made Swanson slip before he could hit me.”

  Rick gives me the side eye. “That’s getting creepy now.”

  “It’s not creepy.” I wink. “It’s magic.”

  “You still should’ve taken the shot.” He shakes his head. “Greer’s going to be pissed.”

  “It’s the curse. It wanted Alan to die.” I eye the bag. “The gem was manipulating circumstance. I’m not a murderer, and I won’t be manipulated by dark energy.”

  I stand, grab the wheel again, and start trying to teach myself how to drive this thing into a nearby open berth. While I’m tinkering, a police boat pulls up alongside us. The officers on board it stare at me in bewilderment.

  Chuckling, I pull the side cabin window open and smile at them. “I have no idea how to drive a boat.” I look down. “Rick?”

  “Never touched a boat before, unless oars count.”

  “Hang on,” yells one of the guys on the police craft. He jumps across like a modern-day pirate in a black BDU, a Colt M4 instead of a cutlass at his side, and strolls into the cabin with us, muttering, “Detectives,” by way of greeting.

  I back away from the controls. “All yours.”

  While the boat cop steers us up to a berth, I retrieve the grey gym bag. Pulling the zipper open with the tip of a pen reveals a mess of glitter: gems, gold, cash, and one enormous blood-red ruby. It’s captivatingly huge, dark, and I dare say definitely in possession of some funky energy.

  I am not going to keep you. I have no intention of keeping you. It’s still got dried blood on it, likely Walter’s. The idea that this gem had been inside a man, then cut out, makes my skin crawl. After lowering it into the bag and zipping it again, I glance at Alan/Nelson, who’s gone red in the face and gasps air in short, hard sips.

  “You’re lucky. That gem is cursed.”

  Alan rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I don’t believe in that shit.”

  Rick shrugs. “I dunno. Your buddy, Walt, is dead because of it. Your future isn’t looking too great either, but you’re at least alive. Be glad my partner’s such a kindhearted soul.”

  With a gurgly sigh, Alan lets his head thump against the floor.

  The boat jars with a faint shock as we tap the pier. Cops on the side throw mooring lines over and swarm on board. With a bag of jewels on my arm, I happily return to solid ground and radio for a medical transport to take Alan/Nelson. Both cops who got wet are fine, but their electronics (sealed body cams aside) aren’t so lucky.

  I glance warily down at the bag. Even holding it with two fingers makes me uneasy. “Be right back.”

  With a nod for Rick to follow, I hurry back down the pier, over the blue-framed bridge, and jog up to our car. I can’t put the bag in the trunk fast enough. Before closing the lid, I concentrate on my desire to shield the car (and us) to protect against negative energy from The Devil’s Eye lingering behind.

  “Stolen eye of ruby hue,

  “Old king Khufu’s words imbued.

  “No harm shall your presence trace,

  “Thy mournful wrath and proper place.”

  I shut the lid, leaving my hands on it for a few seconds w
hile picturing the trunk as a containment vessel capable of blocking the gem’s energy.

  “Nice. That gonna do anything?” asks Rick.

  “Well, if we don’t get killed driving back to the station once we’re done here, I’ll say yes.”

  Rick pats me on the shoulder. “You really know how to boost confidence. You oughta be a motivational speaker.”

  My hair falls over my eyes. I huff at it, but it doesn’t move. “I’ll get right on it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Plans

  Next Tuesday.

  I’ve never been so happy to be rid of shiny jewelry before. Aside from the tedium of having to photograph, bag, and fill out a property form for each individual piece (including all the separate diamonds―ugh), handing it all off to the evidence clerk felt like a giant black shadow lifted from my shoulders. The poor older guy thought I was crazy when I advised him to keep telling the big red gem that he wasn’t keeping it.

  Hope he trusts me. Cops can be superstitious so, who knows?

  Swanson flipped on Alan when the woman from the DA’s office offered to take the death penalty off the table. And maybe I helped freak Swanson out a little bit with all my talk about the curse, especially when he mentioned feeling strangely violent the night of the killing. That unease probably pushed him over the edge to take a plea. The mechanic’s confession filled up almost a whole notepad. Evidently, it was Alan’s idea to kill Manning once they realized he’d swallowed the Devil’s Eye and planned to sell it for a mere three hundred thousand just to ditch it fast. He couldn’t give us the name of the person Manning was going to sell it to, but oh well. Swanson confessed to visiting Manning at his home and drugging his beer, then calling Nelson, who drove over and helped drag the unconscious man out to the car.

  I’m sure Wang will have a different story, but Swanson said he just stood there trying not to watch while Wang killed Manning and tore him up looking for the gem. It’s not entirely implausible that only one of them ‘got their hands dirty’ if they only had one knife. He claimed Wang told him the knife is sitting at the bottom of the Puget Sound, and thus far, Wang has not been talkative.

  Rick made contact with Delaware PD, and let them know we have their guy in custody, but he’s connected to a murder charge. They were rather laid back about the whole thing, I guess figuring that a murder charge takes precedence over whatever they can hit him with for a couple hundred grand of cybercrime.

  Most of today, I’ll be touching my computer in naughty places, working on a mountain of reports. Later tonight, I’ll be touching Caius in naughty places. Throughout the week, Rick and I will be busy going over both residences, following up with witnesses and… dealing with the marina people about damage. Yeah, it’s gonna be fun. Oh, and Rick and I are both scheduled to testify at a competency hearing for that drifter, Larry Benton, next Tuesday. Looks like the DA is open to an insanity plea.

  Rick swings by my desk and drops off a coffee. “This is going to be a long week.”

  “Yeah, but at least the hard part’s over with. I’ll take tedium over not knowing who killed Manning any day.”

  Rick holds his coffee up like a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

  We tap Styrofoam cups and slurp.

  “So, Wims, any plans this weekend?”

  I nod. “This weekend, I’m helping a friend cope with getting rid of a crappy boyfriend. Probably a lot of ice cream and movies. Or maybe we’ll go hiking or something, enjoy nature.” I lean back and lace my fingers behind my head… and my hair falls over my face. “Next weekend, camping.”

  “Camping?” He chuckles. “I’ve never heard someone say camping in that tone of voice before. Usually, people are like”―he groans―“‘Uhh, I gotta go camping.’”

  “What can I say?” I pull my hair off my eyes. “I like nature. It’s magical.”

  With a wink, I lean back in my chair and tuck up to the desk.

  If only I could come up with a spell to fill out these damn reports.

  The End

  Maddy Wimsey returns in:

  The Drifting Gloom

  by J.R. Rain and

  Matthew S. Cox

  Coming soon!

  ~~~~~

  Also available:

  New Moon Rising

  Samantha Moon Origins #1

  by J.R. Rain and

  Matthew S. Cox

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback

  ~~~~~

  Also available:

  Silver Light

  Alexis Silver #1

  by J.R. Rain and

  Matthew S. Cox

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK

  ~~~~~

  Also available:

  Convergence

  Winter Solstice #1

  by J.R. Rain and

  Matthew S. Cox

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback

  ~~~~~

  Finally, if you enjoyed this book, please help us spread the word by leaving a review. Thank you!

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  Also available:

  Heir Ascendant

  A Dystopian Thriller

  by Matthew S. Cox

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  Dream Life

  Discarded wrappers littered the slate-grey countertop, rustling as small hands added one more to the pile. Maya couldn’t remember the last time a housekeeper prepared her meal―not that it took a lot of skill to unpack a thin, octagonal plastic tray and toss it in the Hydra. A minute later, four unidentifiable blobs in separate compartments had absorbed enough moisture to expand into a substance similar to the stringy meat-in-gravy she recalled giving her dog, plus a portion of green beans and mashed potatoes.

  The only difference was how it smelled―the dog food was better.

  A brown horror rested at the center of the tray in its own little chamber. It was supposed to be a dessert, but if she saved it for last, it would be rock hard. If she ate it first, it would scald the inside of her mouth. Maya stood up on tiptoe to reach into the Hydra, sucking air through her teeth as she tugged at the hot plastic tray, then scurried to the table and dropped it fast, rubbing her hands on her oversized beige sweater to cool them. With a sigh, she fell into the chair, staring at the comm terminal while picking at her dinner and letting one dangling foot sway. Endless weeks and months of the same three choices for dinner left her uninterested in tasting it.

  Whatever meat sat under the heavy, brown gravy, its scent reminded her of having a dog. Tiny and white, he had regarded the pedestrian offering of rehydrated food as though it came from on high. Like Maya, he’d gotten the same unidentifiable substance every night, but the little guy had been excited as if each time was the first he’d had such a treat. A frown formed around the fist mushing her cheek to one side. She couldn’t recall the dog’s name or what had happened to him, catching only brief glimpses of having had a pet at some point in the past.

  She left the empty tray on the table and plodded down the long corridor across the penthouse apartment and the four wooden stairs descending to the living room, a vast expanse of dimly lit sparsity. At a pair of sliding glass panels, she sat cross-legged on the tan carpet and gazed out over a glittering city of steel, glass, and neon light. Gusting wind pushed the scent of rain in around the closed doors.

  Whirring, a little louder than the machine that cleaned and dried her hair, grew in strength to the right. Maya leapt to her feet, standing stiff at attention as a hovering drone skimmed along outside. Gleaming white shrouds, twelve inches around and emblazoned with the word Ascendant in silver, covered a ducted fan at each tip of the triangular machine. A large gun on its undercarriage swiveled at her, seconds before a grid of green laser light covered her body. After a momentary pause, a happy chirp accompanied its weapon returning to a neutral orientation, and the drone tilted forward, flying off. She lowered herself to sit once more, glaring at the slogan ‘Building a better you!’ b
elow the name of her mother’s company until the machine drifted out of sight to the left.

  She couldn’t hear the people far below in the street, but they seemed sad like her. Everyone kept their heads down and shuffled along, a river of grey-clad bodies indistinguishable from each other save for subtle variations in height. Most wore the same drab poncho and filter mask; everyone feared breathing in Fade. No one made eye contact with anyone. Several larger drones hovered over the crowd, patches of radiant light adding color to the blank world. Their frames as big as motorcycles, the four-fanned Authority bots on the hunt for criminals and non-conformers were double the size of the corporation-owned ones circling her building.

  No one ever smiled; at least, not unless they happened to be selling something.

  Overcast sky darkened, fast enough for her to perceive the change to night. Today had been a remarkable day; Mother had shown up at the penthouse apartment to check on her. Elation at gaining her attention, even for one solitary hour, had long ago turned to resentment. Mother hadn’t been as much concerned with her as she’d been with getting some good photos for use in the latest ad campaign.

  Being the daughter of the CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceutical Corporation sucked.

  An hour past dark, she gave up on waiting for the telltale glow of Mother’s helicopter coming in for a roof landing and trudged to her bedroom. Maya changed into a shin-length nightdress and started to crawl into bed, but stopped with one knee up on the mattress. She got down, went to the door and, as if sneaking up on a sleeping monster, crept to the comm terminal in the hallway. At the center of an eight-by-ten panel of dark metal, a round steel eye as big as her fist greeted her with a slow-blinking red light.