Tres blinked. “Uncle Jonah?”
“He’s a lot more influential than you think. Speaking of which, he’ll probably want to see the three of you now that this has been taken care of,” I said.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
“About the legacy your father left you,” I said.
I stepped out the door and into the hall. A warm feeling of satisfaction bubbled up in me. They’d proven themselves capable. Together they would be a force to be reckoned with. I could see Jonah’s proud smile, though he’d probably try to hide it behind a stern look.
Marge and John waited outside on the tailgate of her truck. The gate must have been unlocked. I told them of the fight and Ose's demise. During my retelling, the brothers came out. Tres wore a sling over his left arm. He wouldn't be healing anyone for a while.Charlotte stood with a crowd about twenty feet away. She and the remaining nurses surrounded the patients in a circle.
“Can you do something about them?” I asked Esais.
“They won’t remember us when we leave,” he said.
Tres walked to Charlotte and pulled her aside. From the look on her face, she was not happy about it. I updated Marge and John on what we needed done. Marge had taken out the two remaining demon hybrids stalking the halls of the asylum. We piled the bodies along with the crates in her truck.
Tres walked back over with a sigh. “Well, that’s done. She doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore. She said if she sees us again, she’s telling the police everything.”
I sighed and glanced over at her. Her gaze met mine with a look of cold fury. The numbness had passed and it looked like she’d found someone to blame. Me. Us. I hadn’t been fast enough to save Nancy, and it’d been my hand that had slain her. I felt bad it had to be done, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty over it. Death had been a better fate.
A blank stare replaced Charlotte’s glare. She and her group began to sway in sync with each other. Esais turned from them and let out a long breath. John’s car pulled up beside Marge’s. The clouded sky rumbled above us.
“We should get these bodies burned before it starts to rain,” I said.
“Who am I taking where?” John asked.
“I need to get my books and our car,” Esais said.
We met in the woods outside of town. The bodies caught fire quickly, and soon a bonfire rose in the night’s sky. I threw some angelica into the flames, and Esais said a prayer over the pyre. He was the best suited for doing it. After all, according to Ose he’d been blessed by angels. I never trusted the word of a demon, but it made the most sense that Esais was an emissary of an angel from what I’d seen in the past week. He had a large purpose to fulfill with both his father’s legacy and whatever the angel wanted.
My own purpose was still out there, probably screwing over another soul. Perhaps it was time I found her trail again. With Ose dead, my obligation had been fulfilled. I glanced at Marge, who kept her gaze on the flames. The shadows played over her face, giving her a look of primal vengeance. I had forever. She only had a few years.
“Have you thought about what I said a few days ago?” I asked her.
She stared at me for several minutes. “Sure. Why not. You’re not that annoying.”
“We’ll have to drop the crates off first,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Tres asked.
“I’m going to help Marge find the demon she’s after,” I said.
“You weren’t going to invite us?” Esais gave me a hurt look.
“Don’t the three of you have bonding to do?” I asked.
“We can bond while helping Marge. We owe her for what she did for us,” Esais said.
“Besides,” Tres said. “The family that slays together—”
“Don’t even finish that lame ass line,” Marge said.
“What do you say?” I asked her.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked. “If I say no, they’ll probably just follow like little lost puppies anyway. Saying it’s for my own good or some shit.”
“Then we should be on the road,” Adrian said.
I raised a brow. “Not going off to start your arms empire?”
He smirked. “I left once and look what happened.”
Tres snorted and walked to the car. John stood with his hands in his pockets, separated from everyone else. He gave me a ghost of a smile as I approached him.
“Running off to your next quest?” he asked.
“Duty calls,” I said.
He ran a hand through his hair and smiled. “I should head home as well. I actually do have an article to write.”
“With all of the good parts left out.”
He laughed. I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him. Fire flooded through me, leaving me breathless. I pulled away with an ache lingering in my chest. He ran his thumb across my cheek with a sad smile. The first drop of rain splashed on my forehead.
“You should get going,” I said.
He climbed into the car and started it up. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
As if that was a signal, the rain began to pour. It sizzled on the dying embers of the fire. I turned back to the others as John drove off. Warmth spread through me, replacing the ache. The road may still have been my home, and these people weren’t my family. They weren’t Dimitri, but for once in a long time, I wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Adrian stood over the body with his gun trained on it. Esais and Tres moved to stand beside him. They formed a circle around the body. I stood, rubbing my lower back. I threw my head back and took a deep breath. The world had become clear again. I hadn’t noticed how hazy it’d become while I’d been under Ose’s power.
“Mama, Papa,” Tres said in Romanian. “Justice has been done.”
“May your spirits rest in peace,” Esais said.
They bowed their heads and even Adrian looked respectful. I inched away from the scene. This was their time. They didn’t need an outsider like me intruding. I moved to the table on the opposite wall. Several crates were stacked in two rows to the side of the table. I opened the lid of the top crate of the first row. I.V. bags of yellowish liquid lay on top of each other in neat stacks. The next crate held bags filled with little capsules.
“Find anything interesting?” Tres asked.
“Ose’s drugs,” I said.
He walked to stand beside me, holding his shoulder the entire time. Adrian and Esais joined us.
“He had quite a stash,” Adrian said.
“So what are we going to do about it?” Tres asked.
“Destroy it,” Esais said.
“So, another fire?” Tres asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what burning will do to it. I’ll have to take it to someone who handles things like this.”
“You know someone that handles demon-made drugs?” Tres asked. “Does this happen a lot?”
I smiled. “Jonah knows a few people that handle cursed objects. I think this is apt to fall under that category.”
Tres blinked. “Uncle Jonah?”
“He’s a lot more influential than you think. Speaking of which, he’ll probably want to see the three of you now that this has been taken care of,” I said.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
“About the legacy your father left you,” I said.
I stepped out the door and into the hall. A warm feeling of satisfaction bubbled up in me. They’d proven themselves capable. Together they would be a force to be reckoned with. I could see Jonah’s proud smile, though he’d probably try to hide it behind a stern look.
Marge and John waited outside on the tailgate of her truck. The gate must have been unlocked. I told them of the fight and Ose's demise. During my retelling, the brothers came out. Tres wore a sling over his left arm. He wouldn't be healing anyone for a while.Charlotte stood with a crowd about twenty feet away. She and the remaining nurses surrounded the patients in a circle.
“Can y
ou do something about them?” I asked Esais.
“They won’t remember us when we leave,” he said.
Tres walked to Charlotte and pulled her aside. From the look on her face, she was not happy about it. I updated Marge and John on what we needed done. Marge had taken out the two remaining demon hybrids stalking the halls of the asylum. We piled the bodies along with the crates in her truck.
Tres walked back over with a sigh. “Well, that’s done. She doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore. She said if she sees us again, she’s telling the police everything.”
I sighed and glanced over at her. Her gaze met mine with a look of cold fury. The numbness had passed and it looked like she’d found someone to blame. Me. Us. I hadn’t been fast enough to save Nancy, and it’d been my hand that had slain her. I felt bad it had to be done, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty over it. Death had been a better fate.
A blank stare replaced Charlotte’s glare. She and her group began to sway in sync with each other. Esais turned from them and let out a long breath. John’s car pulled up beside Marge’s. The clouded sky rumbled above us.
“We should get these bodies burned before it starts to rain,” I said.
“Who am I taking where?” John asked.
“I need to get my books and our car,” Esais said.
We met in the woods outside of town. The bodies caught fire quickly, and soon a bonfire rose in the night’s sky. I threw some angelica into the flames, and Esais said a prayer over the pyre. He was the best suited for doing it. After all, according to Ose he’d been blessed by angels. I never trusted the word of a demon, but it made the most sense that Esais was an emissary of an angel from what I’d seen in the past week. He had a large purpose to fulfill with both his father’s legacy and whatever the angel wanted.
My own purpose was still out there, probably screwing over another soul. Perhaps it was time I found her trail again. With Ose dead, my obligation had been fulfilled. I glanced at Marge, who kept her gaze on the flames. The shadows played over her face, giving her a look of primal vengeance. I had forever. She only had a few years.
“Have you thought about what I said a few days ago?” I asked her.
She stared at me for several minutes. “Sure. Why not. You’re not that annoying.”
“We’ll have to drop the crates off first,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Tres asked.
“I’m going to help Marge find the demon she’s after,” I said.
“You weren’t going to invite us?” Esais gave me a hurt look.
“Don’t the three of you have bonding to do?” I asked.
“We can bond while helping Marge. We owe her for what she did for us,” Esais said.
“Besides,” Tres said. “The family that slays together—”
“Don’t even finish that lame ass line,” Marge said.
“What do you say?” I asked her.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked. “If I say no, they’ll probably just follow like little lost puppies anyway. Saying it’s for my own good or some shit.”
“Then we should be on the road,” Adrian said.
I raised a brow. “Not going off to start your arms empire?”
He smirked. “I left once and look what happened.”
Tres snorted and walked to the car. John stood with his hands in his pockets, separated from everyone else. He gave me a ghost of a smile as I approached him.
“Running off to your next quest?” he asked.
“Duty calls,” I said.
He ran a hand through his hair and smiled. “I should head home as well. I actually do have an article to write.”
“With all of the good parts left out.”
He laughed. I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him. Fire flooded through me, leaving me breathless. I pulled away with an ache lingering in my chest. He ran his thumb across my cheek with a sad smile. The first drop of rain splashed on my forehead.
“You should get going,” I said.
He climbed into the car and started it up. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
As if that was a signal, the rain began to pour. It sizzled on the dying embers of the fire. I turned back to the others as John drove off. Warmth spread through me, replacing the ache. The road may still have been my home, and these people weren’t my family. They weren’t Dimitri, but for once in a long time, I wasn’t alone.
EPILOGUE
The sun gleamed off the silver convertible as he sped down Highway 10. “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band blared from the speakers, and he tapped his fingers with the beat. Some woman in Mobile, Alabama, had offered herself along with the car. He’d enjoyed her, then taken the car, which had been the best part of the offer. His cellphone chirped.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“How is your progress?” a sultry female voice asked.
“It’s been handled. We have the drug, and Ose is no more.”
“And Gabriella? I hope she wasn’t too much trouble for you.”
“She is still our tool, if that is what you mean.”
“Excellent.” The voice filled with a pleased purr.
“One thing, though, she seems to have developed friendships with the Van Helsings and Marguerite Devereux.”
“That is unfortunate. It can interfere with our goals for her. Wasn't the Deveroux woman one of yours?"
"Her mother."
"Perhaps I should arrange an accident, like the one with Dimitri."
So, Allegra wanted to raise her head out of the hole she’d been hiding in. This would be interesting, but it could interfere with his own plans. Allegra always complicated situations. He passed a car full of a group of teenage girls. He nodded his head with a smile as he passed by.
"I can handle this issue. I will continue to watch Gabriella. I know where she is headed."
“Be careful. If she discovers you—”
He laughed. “I know. But what’s existence without a little danger? Ciao Allegra.”
Amusement bubbled in her voice. “Very well. Good bye, Faust.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Noree Cosper loves writing about magic in the modern world. While growing up in Texas she constantly searched for mystical elements in the mundane. She buried her nose in both fiction and books about Wicca, Religion, and Mythology. Everyday became an adventure as she joined a group of role-players, acting out her fantasies of vampires, demons, and monsters living in the world.
She embraced her nerdom wholeheartedly.
Noree grew, but never left her love for fantasy and horror. Her dreams pushed her and her hand itched to write the visions she saw. So, with her fingers on the keys, she did what her heart had been telling her to do since childhood. She wrote.
http://www.noreecosper.com/
Other Books by Noree:
Flower of Hell
Paramourtal
Nocturnal Embers
Coming Soon:
Dose of Brimstone
The Water Wolf
by
Thomas Sullivan
“Hell from beneath is excited about you,
to meet you at your coming . . . ”
Isaiah 14:9
IRELAND
CONNEMARA
1974
1
You couldn’t tell the rain from the mist. That kind of day, where the greens were black and shades of gray defined everything else between the village and the cliff which drew the land up like a bowsprit Ireland sailing ever westward. And like a dreary ship’s crew coming forward to drop anchor and make fast, a handful of villagers accompanied the horse-drawn hearse toward the churchyard.
It was called a churchyard, but no one from Darrig could tell you why. It was rumored there had once been a church near the pond and that through the first half of the 19th century villagers had worshipped there until it was struck by lightning. One or two of the oldest families in the district held to a dark
er version, saying it had been burned down, and whisperers might add fanciful stories of a pagan altar on the cliff nearby. The McCabes owned the land, however that was clear enough and there had always been a graveyard there just as there had always been McCabes. But here was the last of them, Brone himself, about to be laid to rest. The gravediggers had joked about how deep to dig, lest they strike heathen things said to underlie the original site, and that Brone McCabe himself was closer to pagans than to the Pope.
“He’ll be the Watcher now,” said Laughlin O’Brien the young peat cutter, and he moved closer to the mourner in front of him to cover the fact that he had been thinking out loud.
The churchyard Watcher. Even the children of west County Galway knew what it meant to be the last corpse interred in a cemetery. Someone had to guard the graves. And hadn’t Laughlin’s own father, Fahey, been buried the same day as Dolan’s sister, and hadn’t the two funeral processions broken into a run and a gallop to reach the churchyard gates first so as not to be the last one buried, and hadn’t he lost? So Laughlin’s father became the restless spirit who watched over the others and couldn’t lie down proper until another body was interred. But now Brone was dead and coming to his grave . . .
The dun mare tossed her head as they reached the churchyard, scenting something she did not like through the rain. And it was more rain than mist now. A single flicker of lightning declared it so, lighting up the three-sided stone pylon that thrust out of the black pond hard against the sea. The pond was the central feature toward which the churchyard had burrowed, plot by plot, over nearly two centuries. Two millennia, said some with families so old their roots could not be traced. To the west a narrow grotto of smooth monoliths separated the pond with its graves from the North Atlantic that rolled its salty tongue relentlessly along the cliff as if it had a taste for the dead. To the north was the McCabe house, white and stark, like an overgrown stucco cottage that had reached two stories, its casements indelibly smudged from long-ago candles. Brone’s dog His Nibs could be heard howling above the rain.
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