by J N Duncan
Nick had not bothered to holster either of the Glocks McManus had given him. He barreled full speed up the hill, powering his legs with the extra energy of the dead. Shelby was still fifty yards ahead. There was no plan now, other than getting to Jackie before Charlotte could kill her. Of that he had no doubt. With Rebecca showing up to condemn her sister, the one-hundred-year charade would now be collapsing into ruin. Charlotte would want to get her sister back at any cost, and he figured she would go to any lengths to get her out of Jackie or kill her trying.
A gunshot rang out as he topped the drive, low and harsh. It had to be from a shotgun blast. Where had the shotgun come from? Jackie’s view had not revealed one, and the chief and the Mayor had been carrying rifles. Who was wielding the gun, and more importantly, who had just been shot? Nick had little time to ponder, as bullets began to fly out of the living room window.
Maddox’s voice piped in about Jackie, followed by McManus’s voice yelling into his earbud. “Do not fire on the living room. Jack is down in the living room. Repeat, Jack is down in the living room.”
Shelby crossed the circle, running straight for the broken window. Charlotte was still in there somewhere. Nick could sense her, as well as Jessica, who was far weaker at this point. Through the window, he could see the two men, one of them Carson, who had spotted Shelby as she sprinted for the house.
He had caught sight of them when they crested the drive and was bringing his rifle around to bear down upon them. Shelby ignored that fact, racing up behind Jackie’s car as partial cover before using it as a launching pad. The car sat a good fifteen feet from the edge of the house, but that space was nothing for either of them to deal with. She put one foot on the near corner of the bumper, stepped across to the edge of trunk on the far side for leverage and flew across the open space and through the busted window, taking out a fair chunk of glass in the process as she crashed into Carson. Nick could not tell if she had been hit by the one frantic shot he got off before she disappeared through the flutter of curtains and into the living room.
The other man, whom Nick did not recognize, took a surprised step or two back from Shelby’s attack. This allowed Nick to take a more direct approach. The window frame was a good six feet wide, which was more than enough space for him to plant his hands on the sill and swing his feet up and over, much like hopping a fence. Only, at his current speed, there was no opportunity to look for an ideal place to grab the sill. Nick planted both hands on the far right side, knowing but not feeling the bite of broken glass slicing into the palms of his hands, and swung up and over. His momentum made it more of somersault, but it got the job he wanted done. Nick’s body tore down the curtains, but his boots connected with the other man and sent him sprawling backward, where he crashed into a bookcase next to the archway leading into the entry.
Nick landed on Shelby and Carson, who had tumbled into the chairs situated before the window. The Mayor was out cold, but Shelby struggled to extricate herself from the jumble of bodies and furniture.
“Damn it, Nick! You big oaf.” She pushed to her knees, lifting Nick up along with her. “Get off.”
Nick stood up, grabbing a handful of Shelby’s shirt to bring her upright with him. On the floor, not ten feet away, Jackie lay unconscious, blood pooling around her. Jessica sat back on her heels next to her, shocked by their entrance, a glistening sheen of blood painting her mouth. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen but she was definitely near at hand.
“What have you done, Jessica?” Nick said, springing over the knocked-over chair to land beside her, grabbing her by the collar of her dress.
“Sis said,” she exclaimed, and tried to pull away. “She said to!
Nick shoved her away, sending Jessica sprawling over the broken end table to land on the couch. He squatted down next to Jackie to examine the mess of her forearm. It looked like half the flesh had been ripped away, and blood was flowing from a broken vein.
“McManus!” he barked into the mic. “Get a medevac up here. Jack—”
He stopped at the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.
“What, Nick?” McManus replied. “What’s happened?”
“Don’t touch my sister, Marshal,” Charlotte said.
Nick caught her out of the corner of his eye, standing in the middle of the entry with a double barrel in her hands. Shelby had begun to move at the sound of her words, but was a split second too late as the blast of both barrels went off.
The spread of shot, tight at such short range, caught Nick high on the side, under the right shoulder blade and knocked him over Jackie and into the wall beside the fireplace. It burned like a sonofabitch.
Shelby let out something like a banshee cry, which was followed by the sound of more shattering glass. Nick shook the cobwebs out of his head, pushing energy toward the wound to staunch the bleeding.
Jessica yelled. “Charlie!” She leaped from the couch and landed on Shelby’s back.
Jackie still lay unmoving next to him. How much had she bled out already? Nick pushed himself back to his feet, feeling the warm rush of blood soaking his shirt. He needed to get Jackie out of there. If only Shelby could hold off Charlotte for a few seconds.
The thought ended almost as soon as he had it. Shelby flipped Jessica off of her back, sending her upside down into the wall beside the front door.
Charlotte’s eyes got very wide, her nostrils flaring with rage. Twenty feet away, Nick could feel the surge of energy welling up around her. She blocked Shelby’s left cross, lunged in, and grabbed a handful of leather jacket with both fists. He launched himself toward Charlotte, a long leap aimed at taking her out at the knees, but Charlotte was too quick. He hit her, dropping Charlotte to her knees, but not before she had spun a quick 270, hurling Shelby through the front door, blowing it off its hinges in a crackling splinter of wood and exploding glass.
Charlotte cried out, more in anger than pain and brought her elbow down hard against Nick’s shoulder. There was an agonizing pop as the blow tore through ligaments and separated his arm from its socket. It was then, rolling away from the stinging shot, on the shifting air created by the hole where the front door had been, that Nick picked up on a faint, familiar smell. Propane.
That odor had not been noticeable from the outside, which meant somewhere in the house a propane source was bleeding gas into the house. Would she really be taking that route, blowing them all to hell? No, she couldn’t be.
McManus shouted into his ear. “We’ve got a church full of people running toward the hill.”
Nick could hear shouting in the background. “I’m coming up. Get Jack out of there now!”
Charlotte had turned to check on Jessica, who groaned and whimpered in a heap against the wall. Shelby was out on the front porch, struggling back to her feet. He hoped she had heard the call from McManus to get out. The smell of propane was beginning to overpower. The kitchen likely had a propane stove. If that was the case, one nice spark anytime soon and the whole north side of the house would turn into kindling.
“Head out back to the garage,” Charlotte said to Jessica. “It’s time to go.”
Nick reached for one of the Glocks that Shelby had dropped when she attacked Charlotte, but even his swift reactions were no match for hers. She swung the barrel of the shotgun around in a swift arc, knocking the pistol from his hand as he tried to bring it around on her. It skidded toward the front door, where Shelby looked to be back in control of her senses.
Charlotte raised the shotgun to fire, and Nick had the sudden, horrifying image of Jackie getting buried alive in the rubble of the house. “Charlotte! No! You’ll blow us all up.”
“Just now figuring that out?” Her foot flashed out, the two-inch heels puncturing through Nick’s already lacerated hand. She yelled at Jessica, who was coughing her way back into the kitchen where the fumes were likely still strong. “Go, Sis. Run!”
There was a breaking sound from out front and Shelby was gone from the doorway, having leaped throug
h the wall of the screened-in porch. At the point, gunfire began to erupt from the outside. Blood blossomed backward in a spray from Charlotte’s shoulder and then her side.
“Cease fire,” Nick called into his mic. “Cease fire! There’s a gas leak in the kitchen.”
Charlotte cried out, more in rage than pain by the tone of it, and sprang for the relative safety of the living room, where the protective shield of Jackie lay on the floor, bleeding to death. Nick lunged for her as she flew over him, but caught nothing but air. He did not have the advantage of a dozen or more other Rebeccas fueling his reserves.
Shelby had come in through the living room window again and was diving for Nick’s weapons, still lying on the floor by the fireplace. She reached them, but a second too late, as Charlotte was on top of her before she could raise the guns. The butt of the shotgun came down with swift precision against Shelby’s head, who collapsed to the floor with the sickening sound of cracking bone.
Nick launched himself at Charlotte again, just as she was wheeling around to meet him, swinging the barrel of the gun in a lightning quick arc. He had guessed high this time, a fortunate move that brought the muzzle of the shotgun under his outstretched arms. The detonation of the shell so close to his head deafened him for a moment, and somewhere below, the shot connected, ankle or foot, he could not tell, as he slammed into Charlotte and crashed into the wall, shattering plaster in an explosion of dust and debris. They both dropped down on top of Shelby’s prone body.
If his shoulder had not separated before, it definitely was now, and Charlotte dug her hand into the flesh there, shoving him off of her legs. Nick kicked at her knee as she got to her feet, but his positioning was awkward and he landed only a glancing blow, pushing her sideways, but not back down. He attempted to roll away from her well-aimed toe, but turned instead into Jackie, whose face, he realized was looking very ashen.
The blow from the point of Charlotte’s shoe caught him across the jaw, not quite enough to dislocate it, but something cracked and he felt a warm gush of blood in his mouth. The momentum of it carried him over onto his other side, and he was forced to attempt to push himself up with the one good arm he had remaining, which lay pinned beneath him.
Several more shots rang out and Charlotte screamed this time, drowning out part of what McManus yelled in his ear. “... almost here. Everyone, in the cars, now!”
Nick tried to laugh and coughed out a spray of blood. “Not happening.”
“Couldn’t stop the vampire before, could you, Marshal?” Charlotte said, her voice full of menace. Nick turned to see her looming over him, the quaint, Victorian chair held up in her dainty hands. “And you certainly can’t now.”
Charlotte brought the chair crashing down, and Nick lifted his separated arm to ward off the blow. In that moment, before things went dark, something unexpected brushed up against his leg. Jackie.
Chapter 28
Voices surrounded her. Dozens of people milled around, crowding her space, whispering with excitement, agitation, and fear. They poked, pushed, and prodded at Jackie, urging her to move. She did not want to, however. A listless lethargy consumed her, a cold comfort that made her limbs far too heavy to lift.
Hon! Jackie! Come on, sweetie. You have to wake up, Laurel said.
Why? I don’t want to move. I’m so cold.
Charlotte is killing Nick and Shelby. We have to get out.
The haze began to coalesce, taking on the form of girls, a dozen of them perhaps, all crowded around her. One of them held her arm, stroking it, a gray nimbus of light enveloping her hands. Jackie realized then that something was wrong with her arm. Chunks of it were missing, shredded skin surrounding the wounds. The memory came back to her in a rush. Margolin! The bastard had shot her.
The Rebeccas’ hands sank into Jackie’s skin as she continued to rub over the wound and gradually continued, until her arms had somehow buried themselves in her wound. She smiled at Jackie. You can’t let her win. Whatever you must do, stop her. With that, the Rebeccas continued to vanish into Jackie’s arm until she was gone. The ripped flesh around her wounds shrank. The huge divots taken out had receded back to something approaching a normal-looking arm. It looked like Jackie had done little more than burn herself in several places.
The ghost had just fueled her healing, like she was a goddamn vampire. Wait! What are you doing? Rebecca? No! I don’t want to take you for this. It isn’t right, damn it! I’m supposed to save you from her.
The real Rebecca came forward then, settling beside her. I’m sorry, Jackie, but you have no choice. Charlotte has used us for a hundred years to fuel her twisted dream of bringing me back. We’ve lingered here, unknowing, because she took who we were away from us. Give us the dignity of a worthy end. Let us help you stop her.
I don’t know that I can.
Let us help, Jackie. Your friends are going to die if you don’t try.
Nick. They were coming in to get me.
They’re here, Laurel said. And Charlotte is winning. You have to do this now.
Did she have a choice? Could the dead ever matter more than the living? What it really came down to, though, was could she willingly let someone sacrifice her soul for justice? She would, so how could she say no to someone else?
OK. Rebecca, let’s do this. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but we have to try.
With the open invitation, the Rebeccas swarmed around her, pressing in until she felt smothered, shouting encouragement, crying for vengeance and freedom. They seeped into Jackie, their energy dispersing and filling her body, and the cold, dead weight that had been dragging her down began to lift. Only the real Rebecca remained at the end, waiting.
Different sounds began to drift into her awareness. Faint pops, a scream, and Nick’s voice. He was close. Jackie’s eyes fluttered open to the grunt of his voice and the splintering crack of wood.
Charlotte stood above her, blood splattered across the side of her face. Something had torn a hole in her left cheek. Next to her a chair lay in a broken heap, beneath which legs protruded out against her side. The cowboy boots were all too familiar.
Her voice croaked. “Nick?”
Charlotte’s livid gaze focused on her. “Jackie. You’ve ... well. Look what you’ve done.”
She reached down and grabbed Jackie by the jacket and jerked her up to her feet. “Hello, Sis. You in there?” Charlotte shook her hard enough to snap Jackie’s head back and forth. “I can feel you in there.”
Holy hell, she’s strong. Jackie grabbed onto Charlotte’s wrists, letting the power given to her flow through her arms and into her hands. She was not exactly sure what she was doing or how to do it, but Laurel helped guide her efforts. Her fingers dug into the tendons on Charlotte’s wrists to the point her short nails began to break the skin.
“She’s says it’s time for this to be over,” Jackie said. “You can’t do this anymore, Charlotte.”
“Jack!” It was McManus’s voice calling from outside the window. “Charlotte Thatcher! This is the FBI. Your house is surrounded. You need to release our agent and come out with your hands on top of your head.”
Charlotte glanced out the window and a moment later, Jackie heard something crash through the remains of the window. McManus swore.
“Get everyone back, McManus!” Jackie said.
“Half the town is coming up the hill, Jack.”
Shit. “Just stay back.” She began to twist her hands, attempting to pry Charlotte’s off of her. “It’s all over, Charlotte. Let your people go.” Blood was seeping out between her fingers now.
“You can’t arrest me,” she said, her voice now strained with the effort of keeping her grip on Jackie. For the moment at least, it seemed the amount of power they possessed was close to equivalent. “And you know you can’t, so let’s pretend we’re both smarter than that, shall we? You mean to kill me. It’s the only way to stop me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Charlotte,” Jackie replied, losing some of her
grip as Charlotte lifted her off the ground.
“You can’t let me walk away and you can’t arrest me,” she said, the cherubic smile back on her face. “So, that leaves you one option, and I think you knew that coming in here. I really hate being patronized.” With that, she tipped forward and dropped Jackie to the floor, where the air rushed out of her lungs in a dizzying whoosh.
Jackie brought up her arms to deflect away Charlotte’s effort to grab her by the throat, and brought her elbow across to slam into Charlotte’s jaw where it had been torn open. Charlotte grunted and then laughed, blood staining her teeth in a devilish grin. She reached down and grabbed a broken table leg from the shattered end table. “You never liked to fight fair, did you, Sis?”
The jagged edge of the leg whipped down and Jackie caught Charlotte’s wrist just before it hit her left eye. Inside, both Laurel and Rebecca gave a startled scream before recovering to help Jackie hold the weapon back. Charlotte bore down, using her weight as leverage, and Jackie realized that she would not have the strength to hold it back for long.
A shot rang out, close enough to momentarily deafen Jackie’s ears. Blood sprayed across her face as the table leg blew apart from Charlotte’s hand. Jackie was able to then leverage her legs to knock Charlotte over to the side and scramble back to her feet. Nick lay on his side beneath the broken chair, the Glock in one hand. A sheet of blood covered him from jaw to neck.
“Here,” he said, and flipped the gun to her.
Jackie picked it up and tried to bring it around on Charlotte, but from the position on her side, she brought her pointy-toed shoe around and sent it flying before Jackie could even get a shot off. Shouts outside could be heard now, unfamiliar voices. The townsfolk were arriving on the scene. Somewhere in the background, Jackie also heard the rumble of an engine. Jessica had started up the motorcycle.
