Fate

by Nadine Nightingale

  B catches me battling with the sleeves of my sweater. “You okay?”

  “It’s too damn hot.” I’d give my poker wins for a sleeveless shirt.

  Jesse pinches his brows together. “It’s warm and all.” He pauses, ogling my face. “But dude, your skin’s redder than the tomatoes Grandma used to grow. Did you catch anything?”

  I don’t feel sick per se. Just a little weird. Remember the hole in my belly? Well, it just expanded to the size of North America. And my heart? It’s about to jump out of my chest.

  “Alex?” B elbows me. “Are you sure—”

  “I’m okay.” I think I am.

  We march toward Ford. A shitload of deputies are with him, trying to keep the reporters at bay.

  Pushing through the vultures, someone seizes hold of my sweater. “Agent Remington?”

  Startled, I spin.

  Oh, Fuck!

  “Remember me?” Shirley Partridge lookalike asks, shoving a mic in my face. “We met in—”

  “Kansas City.” She covered the story about the four teenagers whacked by their witchy teacher. I’d never forget a pit bull like her. She made our life living hell by asking all the right questions. No matter how hard Jesse and I tried, we couldn’t get her to believe the killings were the work of a madman.

  Shirley Partridge lookalike cups her cameraman’s elbow, spinning him around, forcing the poor bastard to film us. “Can you tell us anything about the hostages? Do you know who’s responsible for this? Is the bloody lake connected?”

  Could she talk any faster?

  “Can you give our viewers anything?” she presses as more reporters circle us, aiming their cameras at us.

  Not nearly dumb enough to engage in a conversation with her, I keep moving. Journalists might not have an ounce of decency, but they sure as hell don’t lack a brain. The slightest slip and it’s bye-bye PAU, hello SupernaturalLeaks.

  She treads on Jesse’s heels. “Don’t you think the public has a right to know what’s happening? Especially after the super-quake and the riots that broke out across the country?”

  My brother—always the lady’s man—musters up one of his panty-wetting smiles. “Your hair looks gorgeous.”

  She so didn’t expect that. The compliment, along with Jesse’s charm, catch her completely off guard. “Well, thank you.” Her voice is softer, her cheeks flushed. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

  Jesse winks at her. “Beauty such as yours must be acknowledged.”

  If looks could kill, B would have offed Shirley.

  But Jesse’s plan works. The vulture is busy gloating and we escape. By the time she remembers why she’s here, we already made it to the yellow crime tape.

  “Let them through,” Ford orders his colleagues.

  A beer-belly-rocking deputy holds the tape up for us.

  We slip through, heading straight toward Ford. “What do we know?” Jesse inquires.

  Ford takes his hat off. “Sheriff Vincent is inside. He’s one of the hostages. They”—he points to a dozen cops—“tried to go in, but…” He trails off.

  “What?” Patience isn’t B’s strong suit.

  Ford sighs. “See for yourselves.”

  He leads us closer to the B&B. Then, he stops abruptly. “Wait.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  He picks up a rock, throwing it against an invisible electric shield. Sparks fly as the stone connects with the power source. By the time it lands on the ground, it’s reduced to ashes.

  “A protective shield.” B shoots daggers at me. “I told you she’s here.”

  Ford inches closer. “Who is she? And what the hell is that? My men are growing increasingly twitchy. They’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I’m a PAU hunter and I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “It’s a force field,” B explains. “No one gets in unless—”

  Hope sparks in his eyes. “Unless what?”

  B turns to Jesse and me. “I might be able to get you past the shield, but you’d be on your own.” She eyeballs the invisible wall. “And I’m not sure I can get you out.”

  If Manda is in there, I’m going. “What do you need?”

  “A quiet place”—she looks over her shoulder at the vultures—“away from all the cameras, and some booze.”

  My gaze darts to Ford. “You heard her.”

  He scans the area. “There’s a fishing cottage by the lake on the opposite site of the house. Will that do?”

  B nods. “What about the booze?”

  “I’ve got a bottle of bourbon in the car.” Bought it before we went to Anna’s, and after Manda walked away. I figured I might as well be drunk when I’m dragged to hell.

  “Let’s go to work,” she says, spinning on her heels.

  ****

  It was harder than expected to get rid of Ford. The deputy wanted in on the action. Though he had no clue what was about to go down in the shabby fishing cottage located behind Light Haus B&B. Luckily, we had B. She used her special gifts to convince him he’s needed up front to make sure his colleagues wouldn’t walk in on us.

  “All right.” The mamba throws the chalk on a small table. She drew one of those famous voodoo mandalas on the ground. “I’m good to go.”

  Jesse rests his hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure you can do it?” B told us she’d have to invoke a couple of Loas to get us through the protective shield. And even then, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure it’d work.

  “As long as the First Knight created the barrier, we’re good.” In other words, if it’s Manda’s magic keeping us out, we’re screwed. She’s an untouchable. Meaning, B can invoke the whole of Olympus and they couldn’t help us through the invisible wall.

  I move to the door. Jesse follows me, but I stop him. “Whoa, where are you going?”

  He smirks. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “You’re not coming,” I say, not the slightest trace of humor in my voice.

  “What do you mean I’m not coming?”

  “I’m going in alone,” I clarify.

  “Are you crazy?” he barks, murder on his face.

  Maybe, but if the mamba is right this could be a one-way trip. No way in hell, I’m taking my little brother with me. We have no idea what’s waiting inside. The First Knight didn’t strike me as the kinda demon traveling on his own. God knows how many of his kind are on the other side of the barrier waiting to kill us. “Someone needs to take care of B,” I say, hoping his feelings for the mamba can nip an unwanted argument in the bud.

  The mamba cocks a brow. “Don’t you dare use me to justify your suicidal plan.” She slams her hands on her hips. “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself, Alex.”

  “She’s right,” Jesse hisses. “And I’m not going to sit back and watch you walk into a demon trap by yourself.”

  Why does he have to be so damn stubborn? Oh, right. He’s a Remington. “You don’t get it,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “What if B can’t get me out, Jess? Someone needs to keep the cops and media under control.”

  “No.” He crosses his arms. “Not happening. I’m coming. Period.”

  “Jess,” I roar, on the brink of tying him to the old rocking chair in the corner.

  He shakes his head. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll let you walk in there by yourself. The demon is going to slaughter you.”

  “Manda won’t let him.” She sold her soul for me. Never in a million years would she stand by and watch the First Knight murder me.

  B frowns. “Alex, you—”

  “Enough.” I hold my hand up, silencing her. “I’m going. And I’m going alone. This is my responsibility. I fucked up. I’ll fix it.”

  Jesse realizes there’s no point arguing with me. I made up my mind. I won’t change it. “Fine. I’ll wait here, but if you’re not out in twenty minutes, I’m coming after you and I don’t give a shit about what you say. Got it?”

  I’m not thrilled at the prospect, but I d
on’t think I can negotiate better terms. “Deal.”

  B is on her knees. “Go,” she says, nodding at the door. “He’ll text you when the shield is down.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” The kind that’ll get me buried six feet under.

  “Alex.” Jesse stops me.

  “Huh?”

  A long period of silence stretches between us. “If you die, I’m selling your car.”

  “Then I’ll haunt your ass.”

  “And I’ll call the Ghostbusters,” he replies, flashing me a wicked smile.

  Chapter 32

  The closer I get to the shield the higher the hair on the back of my neck stands. The energy radiating from that thing is inhuman, in every sense of the word. I hope…no, I pray B can take it down. If—and that’s still a big if for me—Manda is in there, I need to get her away from that demonic bastard. It might seal my fate and I’ll be deported straight to hell, but that’s a small price to pay for the lives of Leandro, Manda, and the rest of the human race.

  An icy breeze beats against my hot cheeks. Trees rattle behind me. Terror creeps down my spine. I’ve been a hunter for too long to be oblivious to the side-effects of magic. The mamba must have started the ritual.

  Heart kicking into high gear, I scan my surroundings. Not a single soul at the back entrance of the B&B. Good. I don’t think B could manipulate a whole nation if the reporters caught wind of what we’re up to.

  Minutes slip through the hourglass. The wind whips violently. Until—

  The trees circling the Light Haus B&B stand still.

  I smell bourbon and cigars.

  A fraction of a second later, an otherworldly voice wafts through the air. “Come with me,” she says.

  My hunter-bells ring. That can only mean one thing: something supernatural is with me.

  “Alexander,” the voice, distant like wind chimes, sings. “Follow me.”

  I stay rooted to the spot. Sorry, I don’t trust invisible creatures.

  “I am here to guide you,” the woman assures me.

  In that very moment, my phone buzzes. “All clear,” Jesse wrote. “B says you can trust her.”

  Her? As in the voice, or the mamba?

  “Hurry,” she says. “We can’t keep it open for long.”

  A leap of faith is required. For the sake of Manda and Leandro, I’m jumping. Or should I say I’m walking? Yup. Toward the protective shield which turned a damn stone into ash.

  “Pass through,” the woman mutters. “Now.”

  I hesitate and I’m not quite sure why. Death has been my constant companion since I got the job at the PAU. C’mon, I voluntarily walk into witch dens, encounter all sorts of creatures that can rip my heart out without breaking a sweat and never dodged a bullet. But that was before I learned I have a son. If things go south, Leandro will be an orphan. Sure, he’ll still have Melinda, Manda’s sister, and I’d bet my life Jesse would be there for him, too, yet I’d never get to meet him. God, things were so much easier when it was just me and Jesse.

  “You must go!” A pair of hot hands are on my back, pushing me. Hard. It happens so fast, I can’t do anything about it.

  Luckily, I make it to the other side in one piece. “Thanks,” I grumble. “Whoever you are.”

  “You’re welcome,” the woman whispers, her voice only a distant howl.

  I draw a deep breath, eyeballing Light Haus. Without the cops and media vans, it appears so normal. Looks can be deceiving. I learned that when we found a bunch of kids in dog kennels in the basement of an idyllic lake house.

  “All right, Remington.” I reach for my Beretta. “You’ve got this.”

  The veranda door is open. I approach it, my stomach heavier than that of the dead wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.

  It’s a trap, the hunter within screams. I’m inclined to believe my gut, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. I need to get to Manda, come what may.

  I move inside, gun drawn, finger on the trigger. What I find is—

  God, I’m not sure there are words to describe what I see with my own eyes. The sunroom of the B&B resembles a damn slaughterhouse. Body parts are scattered all over the hardwood floor. A left arm secured on a piece of rope hangs on the ceiling fan. Judging by the red nail polish, I’d say female. Right beneath it sits a head on a wooden chair. Long, brown hair glued to the bloody face. If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say the head belongs to the arm.

  To my left, I find the corpse of a heavy weight man. Contrary to the unknown woman, he’s still in one piece. But there’s one thing they have in common—they’re both very much dead. A piece of his skull is missing.

  There are two more victims—both of them my age, both of them killed with a damn steak knife. How I know? It’s still sticking in their fucking hearts.

  I really wish I could give my brain some time to process that shit, but I have the nagging feeling I’m already late to the party.

  Careful not to make any noise, I tiptoe into the hallway. There’s nothing but the main entrance and the staircase on the left. One floor at a time is what they teach you at Quantico. So I head toward the large, double swinging doors on my right.

  Voices float into the hallway. “Please, let us go,” a woman begs.

  “Don’t bother,” a husky, male voice, grumbles. “Those freaks will never let us out of here alive.”

  “Freak?” The sound is otherworldly. Sorta like nails on a chalkboard, only ten times creepier. “Whom are you calling a freak, monkey?”

  “I don’t understand,” the woman cries. “Why would you do that? Why kill all those people?”

  Slow and on high alert, I open the swinging door just enough for me to peek inside. Across the room, I spot the sheriff. Yeah, his uniform sorta gives him away. Poor bastard is cuffed to a chair. Below him, carved into the hardwood floor is a sigil, hunters call them demonic nametags, and an Enochian key aka angelic nametag. Sigils are used to summon a demon, Enochian keys to summon an angel.

  “Please.” The thirty-something woman is tied to a radiator. “I have a daughter.”

  Black, six-inch, stiletto heels move into my view frame. Tight, black leather pants hug those endless legs in all the right places. “Tell her to shut up!”

  The sound of her voice startles me. I step back, knocking right into one of those damn dressers.

  Shit!

  Flaming green eyes catch me off guard. Full lips, colored dark, matte red, curve into a wicked half-smile. “No need to hide.” She moves toward the ajar door. “Come on in, Alex.”

  Steadying my Beretta, I push the swinging door open.

  The First Knight lounges in an armchair by a coffee table. A steaming cup of tea and an ancient-looking tome sit beside him. Around him, forming a half-circle, are five faceless creatures, uglier than Voldemort himself. No kidding. Their eyes are hollow sockets, they lack a nose but rock two major holes, and don’t even get me started on those yellow, razor-sharp teeth.

  “Hello, Alexander.” The bastard knight lifts his cup, saluting me.

  I aim my gun at him, but keep my eyes on Manda. “Let’s go.”

  She crosses her slender arms above her illegally perfect hips. “Go where, Alex?”

  “Manda, I know what you did.” She doesn’t need to do the asshole’s bidding to save me from hell. “I read your letter. And I get it. I do. But—”

  “You don’t get shit, Alex.” She tilts her head to the side, exposing black lines. Wait, did she get a tattoo? If so, she went all the way and covered her whole damn body with ink. Arms, cleavage, neck, even part of her face up to her cheeks is laced with those damn black lines. Inching closer, I realize those aren’t tatts. They’re her damn veins.

  Black. Fucking. Veins.

  She winks at me. “Do you like what you see?”

  “Manda, please…”

  She pulls an athame out of the back of her pants, tapping the sharp blade against her temple. “Manda is dead,” she says, voice cold and distant. “She died for an asshole who tre
ated her like a piece of garbage.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  She looks at the First Knight, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “He wants to know what I’m talking about.”

  The First Knight eyeballs the terrified woman. “Why don’t you show him?”

  “It’d be my genuine pleasure.” She walks up to the poor chick, pressing the damn blade against her throat.

  “She’s insane.” The chick’s vocal chords are strained. “Just shoot her. Please, just—”

  I swore I’d never point my gun at Manda again, but she doesn’t give me much of a choice. Not when the chick she threatens begs for my help, reminding me she has a two-year-old daughter at home. “Put the athame down, Manda.”

  She throws her wavy thatch over one shoulder and applies more pressure. The blade slices through the woman’s neck, spilling fresh blood.

  “Amanda,” I yell. “Put that fucking thing down.”

  “Or what?” she says, batting her thick black lashes. “Are you going to shoot me?” Manic laughter assaults my ears. “Haven’t we been through this already?”

  “You have to stop me,” her pleas come back to haunt me. “Don’t hesitate, Alex.”

  I can’t and I’m done acting as if I could. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I holster my gun. “Please, Manda, just—”

  “What are you doing?” the sheriff yells. “Kill them, you idiot.”

  Manda’s eyes catch fire. Literally. They burn like a fucking wildfire. “Quiet.” Her voice thunders through my brain. “All of you.”

  My jaw clenches. I try to speak, but can’t even move my damn mouth.

  A hand lands on my shoulder. “Isn’t she just amazing?” the bastard aka First Knight whispers.

  I’m torn between slamming the asshole into the fucking wall, and cutting his smug smile out of his stupid face. Unfortunately, I can’t do neither. Why? I’m pretty much rooted to the spot.

  Manda steps back from the chick, shoving the blade into her waistband. Her lips curl into one of those aggravating smiles. You know, the one that makes me want to kill and kiss her at the same time. “Will you behave?”

  Who is she? My mother?

  Our eyes lock, her icy stare eliciting a shiver. “I think you will.”