The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2)

by Linda Watkins

  Should a Viper perform transgressions that merit termination, the Inquisitor will destroy him using one of the following methods…

  The text went on to list various heinous forms of torture, resulting in death. One of my favorites was boiling the transgressor in a vat of oil until his skin had melted and his blood was fried. Another was inflicting on the violator one thousand cuts – including the femoral artery, the jugular vein, the pulmonary artery, and the superior vena cava – any one of which would cause death. However, in this form of punishment as in the others, death was not the goal. No, the purpose of all of these various methods of torture was to remove the blood from the body. Once removed, the vital fluid was then destroyed, usually by fire.

  I sat back and thought about this for a bit. Everything came down to the blood. It was the tainted blood that created and sustained the viper – blood that gave him his power and strength.

  But what if that blood were removed?

  I put the pages aside, feeling suddenly filled with hope. I had the germ of an idea and, if I could put the pieces in place, I might – just might – be able to get my Jeremy back.

  76

  Kate

  Another Simple Plan

  THE NEXT FEW days flew by. On Thursday, I received a text from Jeremy saying that he was coming home. He’d decided, however, not to drive. He was leaving his truck in South Carolina and planned to buy a new one when he got back to Maine. He said he would be arriving on Friday at three-fifty p.m. and asked if I could pick him up at the airport. I checked my calendar and messaged him back that I would be happy to.

  On Friday, I was waiting just outside security when I saw him walking hurriedly through the crowds.

  “Kate!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around me. “God, it’s good to be home! Come on, let’s get the hell outta here.”

  “Baggage?” I asked, pulling out of his embrace.

  “Naw. I left most of my stuff down there. I got plenty at home. God, you look great!”

  We walked from the airport to my car. I started to get in on the driver’s side, but Jeremy stopped me.

  “I’ll drive,” he said, putting his hand out for the keys.

  I frowned – he’d never objected to me driving before. We stood staring at each other for a moment, then I dropped the keys onto his palm.

  “Fine,” I said. “You drive.”

  Grinning, he got into the car while I walked around and got in on the passenger side.

  We drove silently to the parking garage where I kept my mainland car. I started to get out, but Jeremy stopped me.

  “Sorry,” he said, handing me the keys. “I’m just used to doing the driving.”

  I frowned. “Next time,” I said firmly. “My car, I drive. Okay?”

  “Okay. Now, did you bring my punt over?”

  I looked at him, exasperated. “No, I didn’t. You didn’t ask me to and I’m not adept at outboard motors. You know that.”

  I could see him visibly trying to control his temper. Whatever had happened to him in South Carolina, it had caused the genial façade he had worn since Christmas to crack. The old man’s nasty temperament was beginning to take hold.

  “Yeah,” he finally replied. “I forgot. We’ll take a taxi.”

  Nodding, I pulled out my cell and called the water taxi service.

  “There’ll be a boat in about fifteen,” I said, sitting on one of the benches that lined the wharf.

  Jeremy didn’t say anything, but walked out on the dock staring into the distance. I could sense his impatience and wondered why he was even bothering with me. He had all the money in the world now and could do anything he liked with anyone he wanted. Why was he saddling himself with me?

  The answer came to me almost before the question was finished. Revenge. That old bastard hated Maude Prichard and I was her only living relative. Right now, he was biding his time – trying to be my loving partner. But after we were married? I shuddered to think what would happen then.

  “Here it comes,” he yelled, pointing at the approaching boat. “Come on.”

  Back on the island, I suggested he spend the evening with me at my home. He was more than happy to oblige.

  “You hungry?” I asked when we arrived.

  “No, not now. But I could use a drink.”

  There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and I poured us each a glass.

  “Here. Now, tell me all about your Carolina adventures.”

  I let him talk for a while about his new boat and life in the barrier islands while we sipped our wine.

  “You want some more?” I asked, noting both of our glasses were empty.

  “Sure.”

  I took his glass and walked to the kitchen. I emptied the last of the bottle into my glass, then proceeded to open another.

  Filling his glass with the newly opened wine, I returned to the sofa.

  “Salut!” I said, clinking my glass on his.

  He laughed, then took a healthy sip. “Good wine,” he said. “Where did you get it?”

  “In New Hampshire, where else!” I said, laughing. “Tell me more about your yacht.”

  He continued talking and drinking.

  Finally, he put his glass down on the table, spilling some wine. I noted his hand was shaking.

  “Sorry,” he said, slurring his words. “I feel a little woozy.”

  He tried to get up, but his legs gave way and he fell back onto the couch.

  “Wha … s the matter…?” he asked as his eyes closed and his body went limp.

  Quickly, I bent over him, slapping his face lightly and calling his name. He didn’t respond. He was dead to the world.

  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed his wine glass and put it in the kitchen sink. From the utility drawer, I pulled a blood collection kit.

  Confirming, once again, that he was out cold, I rolled up his sleeve, applied a rubber tourniquet to his arm, found a good vein, and drew a vial of blood. When finished, I checked his arm to make sure there was no bleeding, then transferred the sample to a tube.

  I hid the tube in the refrigerator, inside my lunch box. Then I washed out his wine glass and poured the remaining wine in the bottle down the sink. The empty I stashed in the trash. I then went to the cupboard and pulled out a fresh bottle of the same wine, opened it, refilled his glass, and returned it to the coffee table.

  He was still unconscious. Grinning, I removed his shoes, then checked his arm again to assure there was no bruising. Finally, I pulled a comforter up over him.

  “Sleep,” I said.

  Checking everything one more time to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I finally turned off the lights and retired to my bedroom.

  Lying in bed, I marveled at my ingenuity. Assuming he would come home with me, I had injected, through the unopened bottle’s cork, a heavy dose of Diazepam Oral Solution Concentrate – enough to knock out a bear. When he woke up, he would feel fine – oh, maybe, he’d have a bit of a headache, but I could put that off to the alcohol he’d consumed.

  Much later, I woke with a start. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I pushed myself up.

  A dark silhouette was standing at the foot of my bed!

  My heart began to pound. Rationally, I knew Vladimir Sokolov was locked away in prison, but, emotionally, I didn’t believe it.

  The figure stepped to the side of the bed. I reached out for my phone, turning it on.

  In the dim light, I could now see it was Jeremy.

  “Sweet Jesus!” I whispered. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But I need to know why you drugged me?”

  I turned on the light next to my bed. Jeremy was staring at me, his eyes cold and hard.

  “Drugged? What the hell are you talking about? You had too much to drink and passed out. Why the fuck would I drug you?”

  Feigning anger, I pushed back the covers and got out of bed. I walked to the closet.

  “And what, pra
y tell, did I drug you with?” I asked indignantly as I pulled on my robe. “Wine? I drank it, too, you know, and I’m just fine.”

  He stared at me, then grabbed me by the arm and began to pull me out of the bedroom.

  “You’re hurting me!” I yelled.

  He paid me no mind and continued dragging me out to the living room. He pointed at the half-full wine glass on the coffee table.

  “Drink,” he ordered.

  “It’s freaking four o’clock in the morning. I don’t want to drink!”

  He grabbed my arm again and pushed me down on the sofa. “Drink!”

  “You’re going to regret this,” I said, reaching for the wine glass.

  I stared daggers at him for a second then picked up the glass, put it to my lips, and took a sip.

  “Satisfied?” I asked.

  “Drink it all.”

  “It’s stale,” I said, taking another sip.

  “The whole glass, Katherine.”

  I pursed my lips, sighed, and, once again, raised the glass. This time I emptied it.

  “Now are you satisfied?” I asked again, putting the empty glass on the table.

  He stared at me.

  “No,” he finally said.

  He turned away and walked to the kitchen, coming back a moment later with the open bottle of wine.

  “Have another glass,” he said, pouring the wine.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I replied. “I have to work in the morning. I need to get some rest, not get drunk. You had too much to drink last night and that’s the end of it. No one drugged you. You were drinking on the plane, right? I smelled alcohol on your breath when you kissed me. And, I bet it wasn’t wine. Probably Scotch or bourbon. Am I right?”

  He bit his bottom lip then took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I did have a drink or two, but not enough to make me pass out.”

  “Okay,” I conceded. “But, maybe, just maybe, you were overtired – run down. You’ve had a lot going on lately, haven’t you? Maybe all that excitement caught up to you?”

  He stood silent, staring at the wine glass.

  I got up off the sofa. “As you can see, I’m not doped up. There was nothing in that glass but wine. Now, I’m going back to bed – alone! You, if you wish, may stay on the sofa. We’ll have some talking to do in the morning.”

  Without waiting for a response, I stormed back to my bedroom, slammed the door behind me, and locked it.

  Heart beating rapidly, I sat on the bed.

  I took several deep breaths to calm myself, then I grinned. I’d done it. I’d gotten the sample I needed without him knowing. It had been touch and go there for a moment, but I was sure I’d convinced him that there was nothing untoward in that wine. I expected, in the morning, he’d be full of remorse for the way he’d treated me. I, however, would have to remain indignant – cold – for a time, but hopefully my plan would continue to move forward and, soon, I would have the man I loved back.

  77

  Kate

  The Sample

  THE NEXT MORNING, when I woke, he was gone, but had left a note on the refrigerator.

  Kate – Please excuse my behavior. I don’t know what got into me. I treated you abominably and beg your forgiveness. You are most likely right – I had too much to drink. I’m going to walk home to clear my head. Hopefully, I haven’t ruined everything between us. Please give me a second chance. I love you,

  Jeremy

  I read the note over – it didn’t sound like my Jeremy. The language was too formal – too stilted. I read it again then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the wastebasket. It was time to get ready for work.

  When I arrived at the clinic, I took the blood sample from my lunchbox and approached Steve.

  “Morning,” I said. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Does it have anything to do with that sample you have in your hand?”

  “Yes, it does. This is a sample of Jeremy’s blood I took last night. I want you to run it and when you have the results, I’d like you to sit down with me and go over them. While you’ll have to take it on faith that this is Jeremy’s blood, I don’t want to be the one to do the test. Understand?”

  “Sure,” he said, clearly puzzled. “But I thought he wouldn’t give you a sample?”

  I bit my top lip and rolled my eyes. “Let’s just say he didn’t object to me taking it, okay?”

  Steve grinned. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to this story. But I can wait until after we get the results. I’ll run it right now.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  When I got a break around ten, Steve motioned me to join him in the conference room. Before he closed the door behind us, he asked Meghan, our new receptionist, to hold our calls.

  “Okay,” I said sitting down. “What have we got?”

  Steve shook his head, handing me the lab printout. “If we thought his blood was hinky before, then now it’s off the charts. I don’t know what to think. Is he acting sick or anything? If not, he should be.”

  I nodded, quickly perusing the results. They were what I’d expected.

  After I had given the printout a onceover, I grabbed my tablet and quickly graphed the data.

  “Look here,” I said, motioning Steve to my side. “This is a graph of Jeremy’s blood after the first fever and this is a graph of old man Morrison’s blood.”

  Steve studied the spreadsheet. “They’re similar but not the same.”

  “Right. Now here’s the results from Jeremy’s second fever. See how the individual levels are more closely approximating Morrison’s?”

  Steve nodded.

  “Now, look at the levels from the blood I took last night.”

  As I spoke I laid the chart of Jeremy’s blood over that of Morrison’s.

  “Jesus!” exclaimed Steve. “They’re identical!”

  “Yup. Now, watch this.”

  Quickly, I pulled up the graph I’d done of the cobra’s blood and laid it on top of Jeremy’s and Morrison’s.

  “That one matches the other two,” said Steve. “Whose blood is it?”

  I sighed. “It’s not a ‘who.’ It’s more like a ‘what.’”

  “Huh?”

  “That blood, my friend, is from a king cobra!”

  Steve stared at me, shocked. “Are you telling me that Jeremy’s blood is the same as a snake’s?”

  “Yes,” I answered firmly. “Hold on to your hat, my friend. I have a story to tell you.”

  I spent the next hour telling him everything I knew. I showed him the ancient book and gave him the translation to read that evening.

  “And, that’s about it. I believe that Jeremy’s body and his consciousness have been usurped by Ian Morrison and the longer Morrison is in charge, the weaker Jeremy’s spirit or essence will become.”

  Steve nodded. “So, that begs the question, if this is all true, what can you do about it?”

  “I’m working on that and I’ll need your help. But I know you need time to wrap your head around all this. Take the translation home with you tonight. Read it. Then think about all we know about Morrison and Jeremy. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow. Okay?”

  Steve took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll read everything tonight.”

  “Good, now we’d better get back to work. Meghan will think we’ve gone AWOL!”

  78

  Kate

  An Unexpected Visitor

  THE NEXT DAY, I arrived at the clinic bright and early. Jeremy’d called and texted several times the night before, but I ignored him. I needed him to suffer a little longer. I was sitting at my desk going over the day’s schedule when Steve knocked on the door.

  “Got a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure, come on in and close the door behind you.”

  He did as I asked and sat in the chair opposite me.

  “I read everything – not once, but two or three times. Kept me up most of the night. I also did some research on
the web. Couldn’t find much, but there are vague references to that cult in some very obscure and scary places. I don’t know if I believe any of it, but the empirical results of the bloodwork can’t be denied. So, I guess I’m saying I’m on board with whatever it is you plan to do.”

  I exhaled, feeling relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I need you on this. Listen, I’ve got a patient in a few minutes. Why don’t we get together later – after work. Maybe we can rustle up some dinner and talk.”

  Steve smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Okay, and, again, thanks.”

  By three o’clock I’d seen my last patient for the day. I finished up my chart notes and was about to talk to Meghan about the next day’s schedule when I noticed someone loitering at her desk.

  The man’s back was to me so I couldn’t see his face. He was tall, wearing faded jeans and matching jacket. He had on cowboy boots that appeared to be hand tooled. He was wearing a ball cap, backwards, locks of sun-streaked brown hair peeking out artfully. The whole package was too perfect and I knew immediately who it was.

  “Mr. Lundgren,” I said as I walked up to greet him. “What brings you to our island?”

  The man turned. My suspicions were confirmed. It was Sven Lundgren.

  “Dr. Pomeroy,” he said, smiling. “I came to see you! Would you have a moment? There are matters I believe we should discuss.”