Devil's Nightmare: Premonitions (Devil's Nightmare, Book 2)

by Robert Pruneda

  Don lowered his head and closed his eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” said Aaron. “You know I’m right.”

  “He was trying to protect Cody,” Don said, and then faced Aaron. “If Cody would have used better judgment when performing the rituals, he would not have called on the right hand of Satan, pissed him off, and caused all this bloodshed.”

  “Cody didn’t cause anything. It was—”

  “Of course, Robert bears much of the blame. I know that, but he’s dead now. And his wife and children. But Cody still—”

  “That sick bastard murdered his entire family, Don. He killed Jackson, butchered his wife, and shot his youngest point blank in the back. How is that Cody’s fault? And what about those kids at Saint Hedwig? They didn’t have to die.”

  “Collateral damage. And until you remove Cody from the equation, I guarantee there will be more. I know you’ve seen it again, too. So have I.”

  “Seen what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Did you think you could just move away and that would solve your problems? Your real problem is living under the same roof with you, and as long as he’s alive—”

  “All right, enough! I get it. Damn it, Don, you’re just as demented as Robert and David were.”

  “I’m just trying to help you,” Don said, his voice calm and steady.

  “You may not want to accept the facts, but you’re going to have to eliminate this problem one way or another. Unless you’d rather continue living with this curse. I wish there was another way, my friend, but there isn’t.”

  Aaron glared at Don for a full minute before asking him exactly what he knew about the curse.

  “I know enough that you should not ignore it. Adopting Cody was a noble thing for you to do, but you continue to deny the fact that we were right. All you did was invite death into your home. Take my advice and don’t make the same mistake twice. There is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable. You can delay it all you want, but in the end, you can either do what is right or watch more people around you die.”

  Aaron lowered his brow and narrowed his eyes. “How can you have such blatant disregard for human life? Especially that of a child.”

  “Let me ask you a question.” Don leaned forward. “When did your nightmares begin? When did you begin to see it in your dreams?” Aaron didn’t answer. “Right around the time you started to interfere,” Don answered for him. “And now you’re having them again. I read about those kids that went missing in Austin. The cops found them stacked in the woods near Saint Hedwig like logs for a bonfire. And, of course, they’re suspecting the occult.” Don rested back in his chair. “But you and I both know what killed those boys.”

  Aaron stared into Don’s eyes while he processed everything he’d told him. It bothered him that he knew about Cody’s adoption, but it didn’t surprise him. He knew it wasn’t difficult for inmates to get information, and they didn’t even have to use the Internet. All they needed were the right connections, and he was certain Don had them. Or maybe he had the same gift—or, more appropriately, the same curse—that Aaron and Cody had, and just knew these things through the dreamscape.

  “They were looking for something in those ruins,” Aaron finally said.

  Don grinned. “I guess they didn’t find it.”

  “They had a necklace with an old key hanging from it like a pendant. It had an inverted pentacle on it.” Don stopped smiling. “You know something about it, don’t you?” Aaron leaned forward. “What were they were looking for?”

  “Let it go, Aaron.”

  “Then you do know. Tell me. What does that key unlock?”

  “I mean it, Aaron. Let it go.” Don banged on the door behind him. “Guard!”

  “I need to know.” Aaron stood as the corrections officer entered the room.

  Before walking out, Don turned around and said, “That key will unlock more evil than you can possibly imagine.”

  †

  A dark blue Crown Victoria pulled out of the prison parking lot behind Aaron’s Corvette and followed him onto the four-lane highway. Aaron kept an eye on the vehicle as it blended into traffic. He had a strong feeling that someone was following him. An hour into the trip, he could still see the dark blue sedan in the rear view mirror, behind a red Mustang.

  Aaron exited the highway and pulled into a gas station. The blue sedan also exited and rolled to a stop next to a gas pump, partially obscured by the structure. Aaron parked in front of the entrance and peered over his shoulder as he got out of the car. The Crown Victoria had dark tinted windows, so he couldn’t see the face of the driver. He did, however, notice the U.S. Government license plate.

  Aaron took his time browsing in the convenience store. It was obvious the government agent had followed him from the prison. Maybe that was the point. Regardless of the agent’s intentions, Aaron had no interest in playing cat and mouse games with that federal suit. Either move on or get out of your car, he thought.

  Aaron paid for his chips, soda and candy bar while glancing at the sedan. He didn’t see anyone pumping gas into the vehicle, so instead of getting into his car, he dropped the plastic bag of snacks onto the driver seat. As Aaron approached the sedan, the vehicle sped away and returned onto the highway in the direction it had come from.

  “Government prick,” Aaron said, as he read the license plate number on the back of the Crown Victoria.

  †

  Aaron didn’t get back home until late in the evening. Maria was seated on the swing chair reading one of her romance novels when he rolled up the driveway. She closed the book when she heard the rumble of the engine, and welcomed her husband home with a hug and a kiss as soon as he got out of the car.

  “So, how did it go?” she said. “Did you get anything out of him?”

  “No, it didn’t go well at all.” Aaron’s voice was full of fatigue. “He did change his tune when I mentioned the key.”

  “So, he knows what it unlocks?”

  “He didn’t come right out and say it, but he knows.” Aaron stretched, rubbed the back of his neck, and walked up to the front porch with his wife. “He did kind of freak about the key, and pretty much encouraged me to just let it go.”

  “But, you’re not going to.”

  “Of course not. You can’t tell me to leave something alone, not tell me why, and expect me to just sit on my ass about it.”

  She took his hand and led him inside to the couch. He waited for her to scold him for his stubbornness. It never came. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief when his wife’s fingers kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Inferno

  “Damn it.” Aaron was certain he had entered the correct license plate information, but the computer still insisted no matches. He double- and triple-checked his entry, but continued to receive the same response.

  He pulled Agent Hirsch’s business card out of his wallet and dialed the number on the card. When he heard the voicemail recording, he shook his head and flung the business card against his computer monitor. He started to return the handset back to the cradle, but reconsidered and left a message. Almost as soon as he’d completed his message, his office phone rang.

  “Sheriff’s Department,” he answered. “Lieutenant Sanders speaking.”

  “This is Special Agent—”

  “Yeah, thanks for calling me back.”

  “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, for starters, you can tell me why I’m being tailed?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what—”

  “Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. Either you or one of your buddies at the FBI followed me during a trip out of town yesterday.”

  “I really do not know what you’re talking about. I can assure you that you’re not under any type of surveillance, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Well, that’s pretty much what it looked like to me.” Aaron slipped the go
vernment agent’s card back into his wallet. “And if not, it was one hell of a coincidence. Especially after he high-tailed it out of that gas station when I approached him.”

  “Why would you think it was me, or anybody else from the bureau, for that matter?”

  “The car had government plates, and you’re the only suit that I’ve talked to since Detective Millstead died.”

  “So, you automatically assumed it was me? I was in Dallas all day yesterday in meetings. If someone was tailing you, it wasn’t me.”

  “Okay, then who?”

  “Did you get a plate number?”

  “Of course I did, but I didn’t get any matches.”

  “Give me the plate number. I’ll run it through our system and get back with you.”

  Aaron gave the agent the plate number and apologized for the premature accusation. As much as it appeared Agent Hirsch was trying to help Aaron, he still didn’t trust him. If it wasn’t the FBI following him, then who else in the federal government would want to keep tabs on him, and why? Maybe Agent Hirsch was telling the truth. If he was, then he could be more useful than anticipated.

  Sergeant Henderson knocked on the door frame and poked his head in Aaron’s office. Aaron lifted his index finger, signaling he was almost finished with his call. When he hung up with the FBI agent, he motioned him inside.

  “We just got a call out to the Garner Ranch out on CR 402.”

  “What happened?”

  “Mr. Garner found one of his horses dead out in the pasture. He’s also got another one missing.”

  “And he called us?” Aaron said as he grabbed his keys.

  “I know, but the Sheriff wants us to check it out.”

  “All right.” Aaron’s tone revealed his feeling that it was a waste of time. He followed Sergeant Henderson outside and tossed him the keys to his cruiser. “You drive. I have no idea where we’re going.”

  †

  A swarm of flies surrounded the carcass of Andrew Garner’s paint horse. The adult horse was almost void of all flesh, its rib cage exposed and intestines strewn out from its predominately skeletal remains. The head was intact and mostly unmarked, except for one gash near its left ear. The equine’s dark red blood painted its once solid white legs.

  Its lifeless blue eyes stared into Aaron’s as Devon Greenwood—the town’s only veterinarian for the past thirty years—examined the body. “I’d say a large animal or pack of predators killed this horse.”

  “Like a cougar?” Sergeant Henderson asked.

  “I did see one of them cougars out on my land a few weeks ago,” Mr. Garner confirmed in a strong southern accent, “but it wasn’t very big.”

  “I don’t think it was a cougar,” the veterinarian concluded. “Paint horses are very strong and fast animals. I could see maybe two or three big cats bringing it down, but cougars are solitary animals. They’re also ambush hunters. So, it’s unlikely a cougar came out into the open to chase down this horse.”

  “So, if not a cougar,” Henderson asked, “then what?”

  “Possibly coyotes, but that wouldn’t make any sense either. I’ve never heard of a pack of them going after a horse before.”

  “So, maybe we’re looking for an African lion loose in the wild.” Henderson turned to Aaron. “Isn’t that what killed those people a couple of years ago in Austin?”

  “We, uh…” Aaron wrinkled his forehead and nibbled on the inside of his lip, uncertain of how to answer. “We never actually found what killed them.”

  Henderson motioned toward the dead horse with an open hand. “Well, there you have it. Maybe that lion made its way here and—”

  “A lion’s territory is approximately one hundred square miles. That would put Lost Maples well out of range,” the vet said, voicing his skepticism. “However, I must admit that would be the only animal I could logically think of that could do this. So, who knows?”

  “They wouldn’t happen to have an appetite for alligators would they?”

  Everyone stared at Sergeant Henderson in disbelief.

  Aaron rolled his eyes and handed Henderson a camera. “Go take some photos of the carcass while I talk to Mr. Garner.”

  While Henderson photographed the horse, Aaron addressed the owner. “Do you have any children, Mr. Garner?”

  “Yes sir. I got a ten-year-old boy. Why you asking?”

  “Until we find out exactly what happened to your horse, I think it’s best he stay close to the house. I would also refrain from going out in the field after dark for now. You know, just to be on the safe side.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I know how to use a rifle. So does my boy.”

  “Just be careful, okay?” Aaron warned. He handed the man a business card. “If you see anything unusual, give me a call.”

  “Unusual? Like a wild lion that don’t belong in the Texas hill country?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Try not to be a hero. If you see it, contact me immediately.” Aaron glanced at the carcass. Henderson was kneeling beside it and snapping a close-up of the wounds on the head. “I’m sorry about your horse.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do you need any help with the, uh… removal?”

  “Nah, I got it.” He pointed to a backhoe. “I’ll bury her out in the field before Billy gets home from school.”

  “All right then. Remember what I said, okay?”

  “You ain’t gotta worry about us, Mr. Sanders.” He shook Aaron’s hand, thanked him, and walked towards his backhoe.

  Aaron and Sergeant Henderson searched around the property for half an hour while Mr. Garner dug a hole for his horse. They didn’t find anything. While they headed back to the car, a smile formed across Aaron’s face when he heard the sound of a horse’s whinny. A beautiful paint horse appeared out of the nearby woods and galloped towards Mr. Garner, whose face lit up when he reunited with the animal.

  “If only horses could talk,” Aaron said before getting inside the car.

  †

  A computer monitor projected the only light in Aaron’s office while he sat at his desk cycling through images of Andrew Garner’s horse. He had an idea of what killed it, and he was certain neither a cougar nor a lion was to blame. At least not a lion in the normal, logical sense. This latest attack didn’t fit the normal pattern of the chimera’s victims. But if it had killed the alligator at the park, why not a horse?

  Maybe it killed the alligator because it had somehow felt threatened. Or the alligator had interfered with the chimera’s attack on Doug Travers and Cindy Hallister. But why attack them in the first place? All of the chimera’s previous victims had at least some sort of connection with Cody’s curse. He’d known its initial victims, and the others had seemed like collateral damage. Aaron had no solid evidence to back up his assumption that it had killed anyone in Lost Maples, other than Cody’s recollection of what he had seen in a nightmare.

  He retrieved the Travers case files on his computer and studied the photos of the man’s remains. He also reviewed the photos of the alligator head. He clicked back and forth between those photos and the images from the horse on the ranch. He couldn’t find anything specific to tie them together. Then something caught his eye. In a wide angle photo of the horse and area around it, he noticed a silhouette of what appeared to be someone standing in the woods.

  He double-clicked on the shadowy figure on the image to zoom in. It was blurry, but clear enough to confirm someone standing there. But who? Was it the same person who’d followed him from the prison in Huntsville? And if so, why?

  Aaron glanced at the time displayed on the lower right corner of the computer screen and yawned. Twenty after nine, and way too late to be at the office. He was surprised Maria hadn’t called him, but just as that thought crossed his mind, his cell phone rang.

  He answered the phone without checking the Caller ID. “I’m leaving right now.” No one responded on the other end. “Hello?” He checked the display. The call timer ticked, but it did
n’t identify a name on his contact list or even a phone number. Assuming it was a dead line, Aaron ended the call.

  The phone rang again. This time UNKNOWN displayed on the screen. He ignored the call and shut down his computer. His phone chimed. Whoever it was had left a message. Maybe it was Mr. Garner.

  He played the message, but it was nothing but static. At around ten seconds in, he stopped listening and deleted the recording. The static continued to play over the speaker anyway. Stupid smart phone. He tried turning off the phone, but the crackling noise persisted for another twenty seconds. That’s when he heard whispers blended in with the static. He raised the phone to his ear.

  “Saint Hedwig,” a hushed and distorted voice said. It sounded like a child.

  The phone silenced for a few seconds before it chimed again, this time displaying a text message from an unknown source. It also had an attachment. Aaron clicked on the message to view the image. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but then he realized it was him in the photo, sitting at his desk. He jumped out of his chair and spun around. His reflection in the window stared back at him. Two law enforcement vehicles were parked in front of the building. The street was empty.

  Aaron unbuttoned his holster and went outside. “Whoever is out there,” he called out, his hand poised over the weapon, “quit the games and show yourself.”

  His cell phone rang. He answered it quickly without checking the screen. “Is that you, you piece of shit? I—”

  “Excuse me?” It was Maria.

  Aaron closed his eyes as embarrassment flushed through his body. “I am so sorry, babe. Some jerkoff is sending me a bunch of crap on my phone.”

  “Are you okay? You sound upset.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Aaron scanned the darkness around him and went back inside. “I’ll be home in twenty. Just need to lock up first.”

  “Okay, but I need some melatonin. Could you pick some up on your way home? Sam is having trouble sleeping.”