The professor was—clearly—badly injured. His shoulder was swathed in bloody bandages. The rest of the group didn’t look like it had fared much better. Corpses were piled to the side. With the heavy fighting outside in the jungle, there was no way to dispose of the bodies there. Certainly, the group was far too afraid to move them to the rear chamber.
Reports were sketchy, but it seemed that all the action happened there.
Now, though, everyone was crowded around the young man on the ground. Presumably, the vice president’s nephew.
Perhaps it was time for Rook to make his introductions.
He struck a match. “Boo.”
The group jumped to their feet. The guards raised guns with shaking arms. Rook stepped into the room, but Beauty downright sauntered in—still in those six-inch stilettos.
“Oh, this is nasty,” she stated, picking up one foot and inspecting the bright red sole, and then the other.
Rook crossed over to Chad. “So, what have we got here?”
The stunned group, though, did not answer, so Rook looked at Beauty. “Is this our mark, or what?”
But Beauty slipped on the blood-slicked floor. “These are…” She scraped some brain matter off the sides of her shoes. “These were Guccis.”
Finally, one of the students snapped out of her shock and put a protective arm over Chad. “Who are you?”
Rook stood up. “Why, I thought it was obvious.” When the looks upon the group’s faces did not register the “obvious,” Rook continued, “We are the cavalry.”
Pointing behind him to the dark, tribal men entering the cave, Rook clarified. “Well, actually, they are the cavalry. I’m more the general.”
Each of the men wore tight loincloths stained red with the blood of a lion. Bright feathers lined the waistbands. Beyond that, the men were naked. So as much as Beauty was grumbling about her shoes, she was also getting her fill of eye candy.
Without hesitation, the tribesmen began dragging the dead bodies out of the cave.
“What are they doing?” the student pressed, worry crimping otherwise attractive features.
“Taking payment for services rendered,” Rook answered.
“What?” she asked.
But Rook grinned, amused by the growing horror on her face. “Come on. You look like a bright girl.” Perhaps she was bright, but not altogether quick. “A little snack for the road?”
The girl studied the tribesmen, then the corpses, and then Rook. “Cannibals?” she spat out. “You employed cannibals?”
“Um, who else was going to get us past the Apocalypse Now scenario you’ve got going on out there?”
Still horrified, Kadie rose to her feet. “You can’t expect us to let them take our friends and… and…”
Beauty stepped over a rather large piece of torso and squeezed the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s best not to dwell on details like that, sweetie.”
But the student jerked away from Beauty’s grip. “You are sick.” She indicated Rook as well. “You both are sick. I would rather take my chances here.”
The professor finally ended his silence. “Kadie, I don’t think we can be quite so hasty.” It seemed that the instructor was a bit more practical in these matters. Which wouldn’t surprise Rook, given that the guy’s shoulder oozed a yellow discharge. When faced with cannibals or sepsis, one usually accepted the help of the cannibals.
One of the rent-a-guards stepped forward and spoke in a thick Irish accent. “I’d give my own bloody arm if it gets us out of here.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” Rook said, indicating the large tribesmen. “They might take you up on that offer.”
The man stepped away from Rook, a look of repulsion on his face.
What? Rook was only trying to be helpful.
Kadie turned on her professor. “You can’t be serious! We should trust these… these…”
The older man put a protective arm over his student’s shoulder. “Kadie, what other choice do we have?”
By Rook’s count, that would be none. The girl’s lip trembled, and tears sprang to her eyes. Rook was just glad someone else was comforting her. Rook sucked at babysitting. Instead, he knelt beside Chad.
“Looks like it is time we examined the main attraction.”
Kadie fled from her professor and tried to shove Rook away. “No. He’s already been through enough.”
But one little grad student wasn’t going to dissuade Rook. He knelt, picked up a stick, and moved Chad’s torn shirt aside.
Rook whistled appreciatively. The man’s entire chest was now a seared mess of a seal. The outer edges were black and dry, but near the pulsing symbol, the flesh still oozed a red fluid. The body was trying to heal the affront, but how could it? Red and golden symbols flowed across his skin. One would rise, and then another would sink beneath the surface.
“Now, that you don’t see every day.”
Actually, Rook had never seen anything like it. It was extremely rare that something new was sprung on him. Which was just as well, since he was none too thrilled with the experience. He liked to have a plan of action. Even if it sucked, having a plan was better than nothing.
He turned to the professor. “So, how’d this happen?”
The professor nodded toward the back of the cave. “You’d best follow me.”
Rook instructed Beauty to sit tight with Chad. Her expertly red-lined lips curved downward. But Rook gave her that “don’t make me cause a scene in front of company” look, so she awkwardly knelt beside the student.
Before he followed the rest of the group to the back cave, Rook leaned over and whispered in Beauty’s ear. “Just make sure…”
“That the bodies are actually dead before your little ‘cavalry’ takes ‘em?”
“Exactly.”
Beauty nodded that pink weave of hers. “Oh, honey, I was already all over that.”
Rook allowed a grin to form as he turned to follow the others. Of course, Beauty was all over it. With gorgeous, half-dressed men on the premises, when was she not?
* * *
Angela signed yet another document that Brian placed before her. Who knew that death generated so much paperwork? She just wanted to get through it all. As much as she had hated the stale confines of the interrogation room, the noisy squad room was almost worse. The jangly telephone rings and the musty smell of aftershave and beer. The combination of odors nauseated her. And the last thing she wanted to do was make a spectacle of herself by puking on Brian’s desk. He had been so kind. She did not want to be another source of embarrassment for him.
“Here we go—just two more,” Brian said as he pushed the other forms her way.
Her pen was poised over it as she scanned the page. “What is this?”
“Oh, just the form to accept protective custody.”
Angela shoved the paper away. “No. Not again.”
She tried to rise, but Brian caught her hand and gently guided her back down to her seat. “There’s no other way, Angela. We have to assume that whoever is doing this will turn on you.”
“Good! At least it will be over.”
Brian squeezed her hands together. “I never, ever want to hear you say that again.”
His eyes were so intent. A dark, caramel brown. His square jaw was outlined by muscles strained with worry. At another place and time, perhaps she could have found him attractive. But right now, his chiseled features only reminded her why she must walk the path set before her.
Alone.
She could not go to the morgue to identify another body, let alone Brian’s. He must have taken her silence as acceptance, so he continued. “We will catch this bastard, and you’ll have a normal life again.”
“Normal?” Angela questioned. “With no parents? No friends? Just an endless parade of graves to visit? How will it ever be normal again?”
“Oh, Angela,” Brian said, his hand finding her face. His touch was warm, but Angela knew that gesture would never reach her hear
t. It had hardened over. But she could not let Brian know that. He was so determined to save her.
“Okay. Okay,” she said, leaning back, removing her hands from his grip. “Protective custody it is.”
Brian was about to say something when a voice called out, “Hoffman. In here.” They both turned to find the lieutenant standing in his doorway looking pretty pissed off.
“I’ll be right there,” Brian said to the lieutenant.
“Now,” the lieutenant stressed.
“On it, Lieutenant,” Brian responded as he rose. He turned to her. “I will be right back.”
As he rose, his holster caught on the desk. “Damn it!” he cursed as he unsnapped the holster from his belt. He must have forgotten to lock it away in the flurry of activity once the postman’s body was found on her doorstep. Rapidly, he placed the gun in the drawer, closed it, and put his key in the lock. It stuck a bit.
“Do you understand the meaning of the word, now, Hoffman?” the lieutenant bellowed.
Giving up on the lock, Brian rushed toward the lieutenant’s office.
Angela sank into her chair. She didn’t want to go into protective custody. To live in a series of no-name motels, and eating no-name fast food? The memory nearly made her retch. But if she refused to go, then Brian would insist on staying at her place. She would have no privacy. No time in which to carry out her plan.
Crossing her legs, her foot banged against the desk. Ugh. She couldn’t even change body positions without causing harm. Then she noticed that the drawer slid open an inch. The silver snap of Brian’s holster gleamed out at her. She wasn’t very religious, but if ever there was a sign from God, this had to be it.
Before her courage wavered, Angela rose, pretending to get a paper on the other side of the desk. Carefully, she opened the drawer a little more and lifted the gun out. Tucking the gun, holster and all, underneath her bulky sweater, Angela quietly closed the drawer again. As casually as she could, she headed toward the back of the squad room.
Halfway to her destination, Brian called out from the lieutenant’s office, “And where do you think you are going?”
Angela attempted a smile. “Just to the restroom.”
He nodded, before the lieutenant caught his attention again.
Hands shaking, Angela continued on her path. A flash of the expression on Brian’s face when he heard the shot filled her vision. It nearly stalled her feet, but she could not let one man’s feelings, no matter how touching or genuine, get another person she knew killed.
She just couldn’t.
* * *
Rook stepped around a pool of pancreas as he studied the large, blackened seal on the cave wall. Taller than he, the etched symbols showed no sign of life. Which, given what happened the last time it opened, was probably a good thing.
Professor Sanu pointed to the center of the seal. “There were rumors of an ancient rune buried deep beneath a landslide.”
“Hmm…” Rook commented. “And an equal number of rumors that said it should never, ever be disturbed.”
Kadie, the student, suddenly went into her haughty act again. Rook supposed it worked on those who liked her pretty face.
“We are scholars,” she said, really stressing the whole scholar thing. “The truth knows no boundaries. The world has a right—”
Rook couldn’t take much more of her holier-than-thou attitude. “The world has gotten along quite fine with this artifact buried deep in these caves.” Rook turned as the torchlight flickered and the air reeked of burnt flesh and dirt. “And for all of your education, you, my dear Kadie, have yet to learn that the only ‘truth’ is that the natives, in fact, do know best.”
As the student sputtered, her professor stepped in. “Looking back, of course, you are right,” he said. He motioned around the cave. “We found this chamber yesterday. Obviously, we didn’t understand its true importance.”
Rook allowed the professor to ramble on as he studied the seal. It was a mixture of so many art forms. And none were the classic derivation. He sensed some were a modified Germanic script, while others looked crudely cuneiform, and, just for giggles, they had thrown in some angel-speak. It would be quite the find, if it didn’t end up killing them.
“We were talking pictures for our stateside translator when the rebels attacked. All of sudden, we found ourselves in the middle of a firefight.”
Rook turned to the professor. “So, you thought… ‘Hey, I’ve got a little time on my hands, so why don’t we take a crack at an ancient buried evil?’ Am I in the ballpark?”
Kadie stepped forward. “This is an important artifact.”
“That just so happened to burst open and cauterize your boyfriend?”
By the way her cheeks blotched and her lips struggled to form a response, it looked like he hit the nail on the head with that guess.
The professor once again stepped in for his volatile student. “As you can see, a line of pictograms surrounds the seal. We were able to partially decode them.” The older man sighed. “We didn’t realize it was such a powerful incantation.… Then… Then, the beast… That creature sprang from the seal, and…”
Yes, Rook knew what happened next. He almost felt a little bit of sympathy for the professor. Rook could remember when he had seen his first demon. He nearly wet his pants. Of course, he had been ten months old at the time, but still.…
Any feelings of commiseration died the second Kadie took a breath to speak. This chick was really getting on his nerves.
“If we’d just had more time…”
“To do what?” Rook asked, as he turned to her. “Like you haven’t done enough damage already?”
But this time, Kadie did not back down. If anything, she seemed galvanized by their argument. “How were we supposed to know?” she demanded. “The seal didn’t exactly come with a warning label.”
“Actually, yes it did. Right here,” Rook said as he pointed to the pictograms above the seal. “Do not open. Hellgate. Bad, researchers, bad.”
Kadie was about to retort when Beauty entered the cave.
“Your expert is here.”
The professor urged Kadie toward the main cave, but she balked.
In an exaggerated bow, Rook stated, “Ladies first.”
Kadie glared at him, but at least it got her moving.
As they left the chamber, Beauty threaded her arm under Rook’s so that they walked out arm in arm. “May I just say one thing about your consultant?”
“Just one?” Rook asked, surprised. Usually, Beauty had way more to say that that.
“Oh là là.”
Even with just one phrase, Beauty could still speak volumes.
* * *
Angela crouched on the toilet seat, holding her breath as a female officer washed her hands at the sink. Not exactly the most convenient time for the most hygienic cop to use the bathroom. Finally, Angela heard the snap of a paper towel being ripped off the roll, and then the clang of the garbage can lid.
Her legs felt weak as she got up from the toilet and sat back down. She stared at the cold, hard metal in her hand. Was she really brave enough to do this? Could she really sacrifice her life for another’s? For Brian? Her mother had been a devout Catholic. Her father? Not so much. But both had believed suicide to be a sin. But how could her ending all of these deaths be wrong? Mr. Nilen had a pregnant daughter. He would never see his grandchild because of her.
It had to end. And end with her. If she couldn’t make death come to her, she would bring herself to its door.
Taking in three sharp breaths, Angela closed her eyes. It would be over quickly. A sharp pain, and then black. She could handle black. Even if she ended up in purgatory like her mother believed, could it honestly be any worse than the shuttered life she was leading now?
Opening her eyes, she cocked the gun. She had best hurry, before anyone discovered her gone. Putting the cold barrel into her mouth, she prayed for forgiveness. Her finger sweated against the trigger. Just one little pu
ll.
Was the room lighting up? Had someone come in, and she didn’t notice? Angela snatched the gun from her mouth as the stall filled with the most brilliant light. So much light that the walls around her receded. It was like standing on a cloud at sunrise. Slowly, a figure materialized before her. Dressed in a robe with enormous white wings at the back, the angel floated before her.
He reached a hand out and caressed her cheek. The touch felt cool, yet calming. “You have suffered greatly, my child.” His voice sounded like butterflies’ wings and a tiger’s roar. “But to all, there is a purpose.”
“What?” she stammered. “How?” Angela did not want to believe it was true. Was this a dream? A way her brain was trying to protect her? Wasn’t she supposed to see the white light after the shot?
But the angel, with his golden eyes and white hair, began to fade. “You must be strong, Angela. That is all I may speak.”
She reached out to the angel, but the sound of the bathroom door slamming open broke the connection. Reality snapped back in place. The dirty tile floor. The grafittied wall of the stall.
“Angela!” Brian called out, as he tested each of the doors. “Angela!”
She didn’t answer. What could she answer? Finally, he kicked open her stall. “Oh, God, Angie…”
It was as if she watched from a perch high above as Brian carefully knelt beside her and gently took the weapon from her limp hand. Once the weapon was secured, he pulled her into a fierce hug.
“This isn’t the answer, Angie.”
Angela heard herself say, “Then what is?”
Because right now, she had no freaking idea. If she lived, she caused death. And if she tried to kill herself? Well, if she were looking for a sign from God, having an angel come down and give you a pep talk was pretty clear.
Brian released her from his hold and smoothed back her hair. His touch was so much warmer than the angel’s. Was there ever really been a figure floating before her?
Brian forced her to look at him. “But there is something I need to tell you.”
Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) Page 53
