’I’ll be fine,’ said Nightingale. ‘Drop me here and drive off.’ He winced as pain lanced through his hand. He looked around. ‘We’re close,’ he said.
‘Over there,’ she said, pointing ahead of them. ‘That’s the Donaldson boy, isn’t it?’
Nightingale looked over at an Argentinian steak restaurant. Matt Donaldson was standing on the pavement, looking around. Dee-anne appeared at his shoulder, holding a cellphone.
‘Pull over,’ said Nightingale, but she had beaten him to it and was already heading for the kerb.
Steve Willoughby came out of the restaurant and joined Matt and Dee-anne. All three were looking up and down the street.
‘They’re waiting for something,’ said Perez.
‘A car,’ said Nightingale. ‘They’ve called a cab.’
‘What do we do?”
Nightingale grinned. ‘What they do in all the best detective movies,’ he said. ‘Follow that car.’ He pointed over at a white Toyota Prius that had just pulled up next to the three teenagers.
CHAPTER 53
The taxi drove to Willoughby Farm and stopped in front of the main house. The driver was a Ukrainian called Leonid who had driven them from Manhattan to New Jersey in silence. ‘You have a great evening,’ he said to Dee-anne, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. They were the first words he had uttered.
‘Oh, we will,’ she said, patting him on the knee. ‘But we’ll be needing your car later.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I can wait here if you want.’
Her smile widened and she gripped his knee tightly. ‘You don’t understand, baby. We’ll be needing your car, not you.’
Leonid frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Steve reached from behind him and clamped his hands around the man’s throat. Leonid’s eyes bulged as he struggled and his legs kicked against the pedals but Steve’s grip was relentless. Dee-anne and Matt climbed out of the car and walked towards the front door as the kicking gradually subsided.
There was a light on above the front door, and another light on in one of the upstairs windows. Steve joined them, rubbing his hands together. ‘You should knock,’ said Dee-anne.
Steve grinned. ‘A friendly face, you mean?’ He chuckled. Dee-anne and Matt followed him and stood either side of the door as Steve rapped the knocker.
A few seconds later a light went on in the hallway and the door opened. It was Mrs Willoughby. Her jaw dropped and she put a hand up to her chest. ‘Steve? My God, where have you been? Are you all right?’
CHAPTER 54
As soon as the Toyota Prius had driven across the bridge to New Jersey, Nightingale had guessed where they were going and told Perez to hang back. Once he saw the signs for Bethlehem he had no doubt about their destination so they were about half a mile behind the taxi when it turned into the Willoughby farm.
‘What do you think?’ asked Perez as they reached the entrance to the farm.
‘It’s not good,’ said Nightingale.
‘We should call it in.’
‘You saw what one of them did to an armed SWAT team,’ said Nightingale. ‘You can imagine what three of them are capable of.’
‘So we do it ourselves, is that what you’re saying?’
Nightingale shook his head. ‘There’s no we, Cheryl. I’m going in on my own.’
Perez parked behind the Toyota Prius. Nightingale had climbed out before she had turned off the engine and hurried over to the other vehicle. He could tell immediately from the unnatural angle of the driver’s neck that the man was dead.
‘What’s up?’ asked Perez as she joined him.
‘They’ve killed the driver and they’re inside.’ He pulled his gun from its holster and turned towards the house.
Perez put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Jack, you can’t just storm in through the front door.’
‘We don’t have time to talk this through,’ he said.
‘You go through that door and they’ll be ready for you. How about this? You go around the back. I’ll knock on the door. You get them from behind.’
‘Have you got a gun?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So I’m not putting you in harm’s way.’
She gripped his shoulder tightly. ‘So far as they’re concerned I’ll be a neighbour popping around.’
‘A neighbour? We’re in the middle of nowhere.’
‘A cold caller, then. Selling insurance. We’re wasting time, Jack.’
Nightingale looked over at the house and nodded. ‘You’re right. Give me two minutes.’ He jogged around to the rear of the building.
Perez watched him go. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered.
CHAPTER 55
Steve slapped his mother hard across the face and gasped with pleasure as she sprawled across the sofa.
‘Leave her alone!’ shouted her husband. He charged at Steve with bunched fists and Steve kicked him hard between the legs. Mr Willoughby roared in pain and put his hands around his groin. Steve laughed and brought up his knee, gasping again as he felt the cartilage splinter. The man keeled over, moaning in pain.
Matt put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. ‘My turn,’ he said. He grinned. His teeth were sharp and yellowed and his tongue had become longer and pointed.
‘Go for it,’ said Steve. He looked up at the ceiling. ‘I’m going to have some fun with my sister.’
‘Save some for us,’ said Dee-anne.
‘Of course,’ said Steve.
‘I’m serious,’ said Dee-anne. ‘Don’t be greedy.’
Steve gave her an exaggerated bow. ‘I hear and obey, Princess Lilith.’
Dee-anne’s red eyes hardened. ‘I’m serious, Baalberith. Play with her by all means, but you must share the death with us.’
Steve nodded. ‘I will.’ He headed upstairs.
Matt grabbed Mr Willoughby by the scruff of the neck and lifted him up as if he was a soft toy. He tossed him at Dee-anne and she scratched his face then hurled him against a wall. She laughed as she heard a bone crack. ‘They break so easily, don’t they.’
Mrs Willoughby howled in despair and Dee-anne laughed. She gestured at the crying woman. ‘Why don’t you have some fun with her. You wanted a woman, didn’t you.’
Matt sneered. ‘This one is old,’ he said. ‘Younger is better.’
Dee-anne started to laugh but stopped when she heard a loud knock on the front door. She hurried over to the crying woman and grabbed her by the throat. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’ she asked.
The woman was too shocked to speak. Dee-anne shook her and asked again. This time Mrs Willoughby managed to shake her head. ‘Watch them,’ she said to Matt and headed out of the room.
She opened the front door, smiling. There was a Hispanic woman standing there, smiling pleasantly. She was a couple of inches shorter than Dee-anne with olive brown skin and wavy black hair. Her smile widened. ‘Hi, my name is Sofia, I’m here today to see if you’re perfectly happy with your cable TV service,’ said the woman.
Dee-anne matched her smile. ‘I don’t watch much TV,’ she said. Dee-anne reached out and touched the woman on the shoulder. Immediately she knew everything and her smile vanished. ‘You’re a private detective, your name is Cheryl Perez and you’re here to kill me. What a devious bitch you are, Cheryl.’ She frowned. ‘And you’re not alone.’
‘Damn right,’ said a voice behind her.
Dee-anne whirled around. There was a man standing at the kitchen door. He was wearing a grubby raincoat and holding a gun in his hands. She roared and leapt towards him but he pulled the trigger twice in quick succession and the bullets hit her in the shoulder and she went down.
‘Back in the car, Cheryl!’ shouted Nightingale.
He turned towards the sitting room door but Matt was too fast for him and came hurtling out. He grabbed Nightingale’s throat with one hand and clamped the other over the gun.
Nightingale struggled to breathe and Matt grinned at his distress. Perez s
tepped into the hallway, picked up a vase from a side table and brought it smashing down on the back of Matt’s head. He released his grip on Nightingale’s throat but ripped the gun from his grasp. He hit Perez with the gun, smashing it against the side of her head and she went down without a sound.
Matt turned to look at Nightingale and grinned in triumph. He seemed to have grown taller and wider and his fingernails had become talons. Nightingale thrust his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out a handful of consecrated salt and threw it into Matt’s eyes. Matt screamed and dropped the gun. Nightingale crouched, grabbed the weapon and fired two shots into Matt’s chest. There was a loud crack and a flash of light and Matt’s eyes turned from blood red to their normal brown. He fell to the floor, his eyes and mouth wide open.
Nightingale heard a scream from upstairs. A girl. He ran full pelt. He reached the top of the stairs and there was another scream, off to the right. He rushed into the bedroom and a hand grabbed the gun and pulled it from his grasp. He recognised Steve Willoughby from the family photograph he’d seen. His sister was lying on the bed, her nightdress ripped and bloody.
‘Who are you?’ asked Steve. ‘A cop?’ His eyes were featureless red pits. He snarled at Nightingale, revealing two rows of pointed teeth.
‘The name’s Nightingale.’
‘And what are you doing here?’
‘I’m here to kill you,’ said Nightingale, softly.
‘And how’s that working out for you?’
Lisa was sobbing now, her back to the wall, hugging her knees against her chest. Nightingale looked over at her. ‘Close your eyes, Lisa.’
Steve laughed harshly. ‘You don’t want her to see you die, huh? How sweet is that?’ He looked over at Lisa. ‘You keep your eyes open, honey. I want you to see me beat this Nightingale to a pulp.’ He tossed the gun onto the floor. ‘I won’t be needing this. It’s so much more fun to use your hands, to feel the blood on them.’
Lisa stared at him in horror.
‘Do as I say, Lisa,’ said Nightingale. ‘Close your eyes.’
Lisa did as she was told.
‘Don’t you dare!’ screamed Steve.
Nightingale reached into his coat and pulled out one of the sharpened holly stakes. Steve was still glaring at Lisa and he didn’t turn until it was too late. Nightingale rammed the stake into Steve’s throat and blood gushed over his hand. Steve’s mouth opened and blood trickled over his lips. Nightingale twisted the stake up, pushing it through the top of Steve’s mouth and up into the brain. Steve let go of Nightingale’s coat and his hands clawed at the stake but Nightingale was pushing harder and forcing him back through the door. Blood was spurting from the wound and from between his lips then there was a loud crack and a flash of light and the smell of singed meat and the life went out of him. His eyes turned from red to brown and his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. His mouth was open wide and now he had the teeth of a regular American teenager.
Nightingale stood looking down at the body for several seconds, panting like a sick dog, then he went to the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. He hurried back to the bedroom. Lisa was still sitting with her back to the wall, her hands over her eyes. ‘Lisa, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘We’re going to go downstairs to your mum, okay?’
Lisa nodded but kept her hands over her eyes. Nightingale lifted her to her feet and then picked her up. He had to step over Steve to get out of the room and carried her down the stairs. ‘Mrs Willoughby, I have Lisa here,’ called Nightingale.
There was no answer. Nightingale wasn’t sure whether to take Lisa outside or look for her mother but the decision was made for him when Dee-anne appeared in the sitting room doorway. Her chest was wet with blood and her eyes burned with hatred as she walked towards him.
Nightingale put Lisa down on the floor. ‘Keep your eyes closed, honey,’ he whispered.
‘My hero,’ said Dee-anne, as Nightingale stood up.
Nightingale said nothing.
‘I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart,’ she said, walking towards him. She opened her mouth wide and the stench of her breath made him gag but Nightingale stood his ground, his hands at his side.
‘The strong silent type, are you? Who are you, anyway?’
‘The name’s Nightingale.’
‘What are you? A family friend?’
Nightingale shook his head. ‘Just a passer-by,’ he said.
‘I don’t buy that for one minute.’ She patted the bleeding wounds on her shoulder. ‘I didn’t see them coming. What did you do, dip the bullets in Holy Water? Get a priest to bless them?’
Nightingale shrugged. She was two steps from him now but he knew there was no point in running.
Dee-anne’s hand flashed out and grabbed Nightingale’s throat. Her blood-red eyes flashed but then her hand stiffened. ‘Proserpine?’ she said. She frowned. ‘What’s happening here?’ She let go of his throat and he staggered back against the wall, fighting to breathe. ‘You belong to my sister,’ she said. ‘How can that be?’
‘I don’t belong to anybody,’ croaked Nightingale.
Dee-anne shook her head. ‘You belong to her,’ she said. ‘She owns you.’
‘Nobody owns me,’ said Nightingale.
Dee-anne sneered at him. ‘You just don’t know it. You belong to a Princess of Hell which means I can do nothing. It’s your lucky day, Nightingale.’
Nightingale put his hand into his right raincoat pocket. He grabbed a handful of consecrated salt and threw it into Dee-anne’s face. She shrieked and staggered backwards, temporarily blinded. Nightingale stepped forward and pushed her hard in the chest. She fell, her hands over her face. Nightingale followed her and dropped down on top of her, pinning her arms with his legs. He groped in his inside raincoat pocket and pulled out one of the sharpened stakes.
She was thrashing her head from side to side. The salt had burned the flesh around her eyes and the sockets were filling with blood. Nightingale grabbed the stake with both hands and brought the sharpened end down with all his might, into her throat. There was a deafening crack and bright flash of light and she went stiff, then relaxed. Her eyes opened. They were no longer red, they had gone to blue but there was no life in them. Blood was oozing around the stake. Nightingale let go of it and stood up. Lilith had left the body, he was sure of that. All that was left was the shell that had once been Dee-anne Alexander.
He hurried over to Perez. There was blood trickling from her nose and it ran down her cheek and dripped onto the floor. He bent over her. ‘Cheryl?’ Her chest wasn’t moving and his hand trembled as he felt for a pulse in her neck.
She opened her eyes and relief washed over him. ‘I’m okay,’ she said. She coughed and Nightingale helped her to sit up. ‘Is it over?’ she asked.
Nightingale nodded. ‘Yeah. And we have to get out of here. But give me a minute.’
He stood up and hurried into the sitting room. Mr and Mrs Willoughby were both on the floor. Mrs Willoughby was curled up in a ball, sobbing softly. Her husband was lying on his back, his eyes closed and his mouth open. There was blood on his neck and his left arm was at an angle that suggested it had been broken but his chest was moving. He went over to Mrs Willoughby and shook her. ‘Mrs Willoughby, it’s over. Lisa needs you. And you have to call the cops. Do you understand.’
She said nothing and Nightingale shook her again. This time she rolled over and looked at him blankly.
‘What’s happening?” she asked. ‘Why are they doing this? Who are they?’
‘You have to focus, Mrs Willoughby. It’s over.’
‘What about Steve?’
‘Steve’s dead. I’m sorry. But Lisa needs you. She’s in the hallway.’ He helped her to her feet and out into the hall. As soon as she saw Lisa sitting with her back to the wall she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her. Nightingale went back into the sitting room and picked up a cellphone off the coffee table. He took it to Mrs Willoughby but she wouldn’t take it from him. ‘You need
to call 911,’ said Nightingale. He grabbed her right hand and thrust the phone into it. ‘Your husband needs an ambulance.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Don’t thank me,’ he said. ‘Just get help, now.’
He left her and went over to Perez, dragged her to her feet and towards the front door. As they slipped out they could hear Mrs Willoughby on the phone, tearfully telling an emergency operator that she needed help.
Nightingale put Perez in the passenger seat of the car then climbed in next to her and drove off. As he accelerated down the driveway he saw a figure standing off to the left. Two figures. A girl dressed all in black and, standing by her side, a black and white collie. The girl blew Nightingale a kiss as he drove by but when he looked in the rearview mirror there was nobody there.
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New York Night Page 24
