by Dee, Bonnie
He knew she craved his power more than anything, and soon he would share it with her. Just not quite as she envisioned.
He checked the date on Lorraine’s clock. In two days’ time, he would rule whatever was left of humanity with the most powerful demon known.
He swung his scarred legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed the stub of his finger. Once the world was his, he wouldn’t need to waste his energy maintaining his glamored image. His slaves would worship him, as he deserved. As their glorious ruler.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mediterranean Ocean,
Southern Coast of Sicily
Casey cast his line over the side of the boat he’d rented. He hoped to hell that no one would ask him how the fishing was because he had no idea. He was floating lazily in the vibrant sapphire-blue Mediterranean ocean with no bait on his line.
Babysitting a volcano.
The volcano known as Empedocles lay forty kilometers off the southern coast of Sicily. The volcano was higher than the Eiffel Tower, with a base of seven hundred and fifty square kilometers. The last time it erupted had been in 1831. And now, if Nolen’s plan weren’t foiled, it would erupt again.
This time the tidal waves would be even greater than usual, augmented by Ba’al’s power awakened by the human sacrifice. It would make the devastation in Pompeii look like a child’s temper tantrum. But where the bloody hell was his target? He knew who to expect, just not quite when.
Casey glanced idly at his watch and wondered if he had slathered enough SPF on his face. The white-colored balm plus his aviator sunglasses protected and hid his features. His cream, long-sleeve T-shirt covered his body, yet the lightweight material kept him cool and comfortable. Thank Christ.
He stiffened as he heard the loud engine noise of a large yacht draw closer. Then he smiled. Earlier than he’d expected. Good.
Casey laughed as the yacht hove into view and he read the name on its bow. Speak to Me. On board would be one of Nolen’s thugs, hired to sacrifice an unsuspecting victim. Whatever crew was aboard would be eliminated as soon as possible.
Immediately after the hired assassin had murdered the witnesses, he’d kill himself as per Nolen’s preprogrammed directive. Multiple sacrifices for free. Not if he could help it.
Although the sacrifice wasn’t due until Nolen gave a signal, Casey wasn’t going to hang around and wait until the last moment. He knew that the sacrifice had to be conducted at dawn and whether that was tomorrow or the day after didn’t matter.
He’d stop it tonight.
* * * *
Casey caught his breath. He’d opted to swim without his wet suit or any extraneous gear because he didn’t need it. The man Macalister had hired for Nolen was a known thug with a long record of brutal murders. The man preferred knives since they were quiet and easily disposable. His technique was to drug his victims and slit their throats. Simple and simple-minded like the killer.
All Casey need do was catch him unawares and go straight for the kill. That was the plan. There were no guards. The killer and his sacrifice were asleep in separate cabins. Good.
If he were the killer, he’d wake up the female—for the sacrifice was female—for an intimate breakfast at dawn, drug her drink, slit her throat and throw her over the side.
What sickened him the most was that the chosen sacrifices were innocent males and females seduced one way or another to go off with their assigned killer totally unaware of their ultimate destiny. Just simple, trusting souls whom no one would miss when they were gone.
He threw his grappling line over the railing and clambered aboard on bare feet. His SOG dive knife was belted around his waist. In a waterproof pouch he carried a credit card for the intended sacrifice. Her memories and those of the yacht’s crew would be that of her winning an all-expenses paid vacation that included two nights on a fancy yacht. Pretty much the ploy that had gotten her to agree to leaving her home in Muncie, Indiana, and going off with a handsome tour guide. Her tour guide’s presence in her memory would be obliterated as would anything on board that indicated his existence.
“But, my dear Janie, consider this a, how do you say, fringe benefit?”
Shite. The bastard was planning to get his own fringe benefit. Darting behind a banquette, Casey crouched out of sight as the entry from the cabins opened and his target and his target’s target strolled up onto the deck.
“Oh, you were right, Enrico. It is lovely up here.”
Slightly overweight by Hollywood’s standards, Miss Muncie’s curves would fit nicely in some man’s hands. Unfortunately, Enrico didn’t give a shit about Miss Muncie. Except as a handy fuck. Just another reason to hate the bastard.
A bottle of wine and two glasses were clutched in Enrico’s hands. He set them on a small table and poured some wine in each glass. Casey watched as he dumped some powder into one of them. Fecking bastard. Enrico was planning on fucking Miss Muncie when she would be unable to resist him. Did he have his knife with him too? Probably. So, after tonight’s fuck, tomorrow at dawn Miss Muncie would be no more.
Casey grinned. Not if he could help it.
“Have some wine, Janie. It will soothe your fears. You cannot know how much I desire you.”
Miss Muncie took a good swig. “I can’t believe it, Enrico. I’m not beautiful or rich or anything. I’m just a nobody who won a fabulous trip.” She took a step toward Casey’s target and wobbled on her high Cuban heels.
Enrico moved closer, his arm at the ready to support his target when the drug hit her system. Casey grimaced as Janie sank limply to the deck, half supported by Enrico. He laid her down on a chaise and shook his head. “Why do I get all the fat women? Ah, well. At least she has magnificent breasts.”
Casey bit his lip as Enrico lapsed into callous Italian. Not only was the bastard a murderer, he was a rapist too. Gobshite.
Enough. Knife in hand, Casey crept toward the oblivious target. Sadly, it was over within seconds. A knife entering his body at just the right spot, and Enrico’s lifeless body slid to the deck.
In a way, Enrico had done Casey a favor. With Miss Muncie still unconscious, he didn’t need to worry about her discovering him calmly cleaning his knife on Enrico’s Ralph Lauren pullover crew neck. Pretentious bastard.
Casey hurriedly stripped Enrico of his clothes. He pocketed his knife and the empty vial that had contained the knockout drug. With the precision that he had acquired from training with Dagda and Mach, he burnt Enrico’s outfit and papers. He tossed the vial and weapons overboard.
He gazed at the killer’s nude body lying on the deck, without any pity. Dumping the corpse into the ocean wasn’t an option. Bodies had a tendency to wash to shore even weighted down. This was going to take timing and a strong stomach.
With a sigh of regret about losing a piece of equipment, he trussed up Enrico’s corpse with the grappling line and slowly lowered him over the side. While the body swung gently to and fro, Casey stretched out his arm and pointed. This time when the flames engulfed and destroyed his target, he knew what he was doing—and regretted it not a whit.
He untied what was left of the line and dumped it. Now to get to Enrico’s cabin and collect anything he might have left behind. Including his cell phone.
Casey made swift work of stripping the bedding, emptying the closet and gathering everything together. Thankfully there wasn’t much. He wondered if he had Nolen to thank for that. Probably. The only clothes in Enrico’s cabin were tomorrow morning’s garments. Obviously, there was no need for more.
He shoved everything into the suitcase and brought it on deck. Once more, fire flew from his fingers and incinerated the last vestiges of Enrico’s life.
Casey checked his watch. An hour had passed since he’d arrived. Why the hell had none of the three crewmen stirred for the past hour? Had Enrico drugged them so they’d sleep through his rape of Miss Muncie? Seemed likely. In fact, it seemed more than likely that he’d killed them.
Shite! With a muttered curse,
he tiptoed to the crew’s quarters. The captain snored like a Harley engine in his single cabin. Next he checked the first mate’s cabin. Empty. Expending even more caution he cracked open the next door. Two of the crew were sleeping together, their bodies caught in an unlikely coupling. He grinned. At least they were still alive. Enrico had probably planned getting rid of them closer to port after the sacrifice. Maybe Nolen needed witnesses to the sacrifice. No matter.
He went back on deck and gathered Miss Muncie in his arms. Although she was a bit of a handful, he easily carried her down to her cabin and tucked her into her bed. In the purse he found on her dresser, he stuffed the credit card. He left her clothes on, but slipped off her shoes, leaving them on the floor as if she’d kicked them off, and then bent low to her ear. Her subconscious mind would hear the subliminal incantation and plant the false memory in her mind. She’d wake up the next morning with a bit of a headache and only a fuzzy memory of the past week of her life.
That done, he returned to the crew and proceeded to wipe their memories clear of the man who had hired them for a two-day excursion. Their recollection of the trip was that it was part of a prize package.
Casey took a deep breath. Nothing left now but to signal Nolen tomorrow at dawn that everything had been done as directed. He hoped he wouldn’t have to scroll through a list of the thug’s “fave five” to find Nolen.
He checked the cell phone and laughed at the banality of the thug’s actions. Enrico had put Nolen on speed dial. Tucking the cell phone into his waterproof pouch, he stood for a moment on the railing before he dived into the cool Mediterranean waters.
Tomorrow, a few minutes after dawn, his mission would be completely over and he could head toward Ferrara and Eileen.
He cut smoothly through the water heading toward his compact fishing boat. He wished all his SFA missions had gone down as neatly as this one.
Especially the last one where he’d lost Lark.
* * * *
Ferrara, Italy
The Hotel d’Este
Eileen settled deeper beneath the hotel’s soft cotton sheet. Idly, she smoothed the smooth material; she had no idea of the thread count, but it must have been ridiculously high. She wondered how Casey’s assignment had gone, and all the others’ missions, but she wouldn’t know that for a while yet.
The only one receiving the simple code word, slán, was Dagda. Phoned, e-mailed or text messaged, each Terran-mheasctha team would let Dagda know when the world would be “safe.” The pure water stooges would go about their assignment and signal Nolen that they’d succeeded. Nolan hadn’t wasted his time directing them to end their lives. James had found fanatics for him who willingly swore never to reveal their part in purifying the world. For these innocent dupes, a simple cryptic note of thanks from KOTE, standing in for Nolen, would suffice.
It would take some time for the supposed effects of the fluichlari to show up. Since the results were staggered around the world, Nolen wouldn’t suspect anything suspicious until it was too late. Nolen would be defeated or, better yet, dead.
The switch with her target was so easy, she felt cheated. With the information gleaned from the files Aviva had downloaded, they knew exactly which people were to release the fluichlari to “purify the world’s waters.” Eileen’s target was an earnest young woman who’d invited her to join her in her cause. A quick trip to the ladies’ room at the café where they met, and a search of her backpack for the vial containing the water demons, led to a smooth pocketing of the vial.
As her newfound friend sat sequestered in one of the two stalls, Eileen softly sang the incantation to inform the fluichlari of her intent and send them back to their home. After that, she filled the vial with tap water, replaced it in the pack, and she was done. Now it wouldn’t matter when the woman poured the unadulterated water into the river.
A good night’s work and deserving of some extra sleep. Eileen yawned and settled back into a dream filled with Stone Men and Mach and Casey.
*
Casey smiled at Eileen’s sleeping form. It had been far too easy to get into her room unseen. Each of the rooms had balconies that connected with each other separated only by a low, carved stone banister. A hop-skip and he was outside Eileen’s French doors. It took little effort to jimmy the lock and let himself in.
He stood at the side of her bed, drinking in her beauty. Mach had been right. She completed them. Gave him an anchor that kept him safe in port. He bent over to kiss her.
And got socked in the eye.
*
“Casey, are you all right? You idiot, why’d you sneak up on me like that? I thought it was one of Nolen’s bullyboys. You’re going to have quite a shiner, darling.”
“Just get some more ice for me, agra. Good to know the training you received hasn’t been for naught.”
Eileen took the now cool compress from Casey and offered him another hand towel filled with ice. Thank goodness for the small fridge in the room and its icemaker. “I didn’t expect you tonight.” She grinned. “I certainly wouldn’t have worn my old flannel nightie otherwise.”
He snagged her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. His hand cupped her breast beneath the soft material. “The gobshite was easy to eliminate.”
Eileen froze at his words. “You killed him?”
Casey drew back his hand. “Ah, mo cuisle, what did you expect? The son of a bitch had planned on killing an innocent woman and the three crewmembers. The list of his successful hits would stretch from here to Rome. Don’t go soft on me now.”
Eileen reeled inside. It was one thing to plan Nolen’s death, but this man was a human being.
Casey spoke once more, his voice low. “He would kill you in a heartbeat, darlin’. Believe me. He wasn’t deserving of your mercy or pity.”
Each word struck a chord of truth in Eileen’s heart. “You’re right. My pity should be reserved for the people he’s killed and those he would have murdered.” She turned Casey’s face toward hers and kissed his lips.
Renewed energy coursed through their veins and that precious sense of balance swept through them as soon as their lips met. Eileen melted into Casey’s embrace and she sighed in contentment. “Let’s get packed and go home. I’m anxious to be with Mach.”
Casey tightened his hold on her. “Aye, I miss him too. I’m also eager to see how the recruits did.” He paused. “I hope to hell they remembered to take their targets’ contact equipment after they took them out. They’ll need to receive Nolen’s signal so they can keep him in the dark—ow! Why the hell did you punch me again?”
Eileen laughed. “Because you’re such a compulsive idiot. Who trained the Terran-mheasctha? You, me, Dagda and Mach. With teachers like that, how could they screw up?”
“You’re right, agra. So, what are you waiting for? Get your suitcase and let’s blow this town.”
* * * *
Donegal, Ireland
Dagda’s Cave
“That’s the last of them, Dagda. Liam emailed in from Yellowstone Park and said he’ll be back before the final battle.” Eileen read off Liam’s message and handed the printout to Sióg, and then left to join Casey in their private quarters.
Dagda gazed at the world map with satisfaction. Where once there were pages indicating sites of deadly sacrifice, there were now plain red tacks representing aborted missions. Almost all of the Terran-mheasctha were relaxing in the outer chamber. Excitement ran high as tales of their assignments were bandied about.
While those who dealt with the release of the fluichlari were openly jubilant, those whose missions involved taking out the murderers were far more subdued. None of them had ever taken another life, and even though they knew the people who worked for Nolen were scum, the necessity of eliminating them was difficult to bear.
Sióg left the inner chamber and moved at ease among the recruits. Everyone with whom she spoke felt comforted and less morose. A touch on the shoulder, a quiet laugh and in her wake she left a positive aura. Dagda
stood near the narrow fissure that joined the two caves and watched Sióg at work.
Mach had remained in town with James. He was the last of Nolen’s agents and the most vital. With Sióg, the Spirit Keeper, at the Cave, Mach had no need to rush back and use his talents to ease the aftereffects of the missions.
As bursts of laughter echoed in the cave, Dagda felt more removed from the scene. And more disgusted with his inability to take part in the work that needed to be done. He turned back into the inner chamber, leaving behind the comfort and camaraderie. Casey and Eileen were in their private chamber and he could relax in solitude. And wallow in self-pity.
*
Sióg caught Dagda standing on the fringe of the group near the entrance to his private domain. Every so often one of the young Keepers would glance toward his impressive form. The males would whisper in awe of his prowess in battle and his leadership of their ancient ancestors. The females would sigh at the sight of his blatant masculinity and admit their admiration for older men. Even some of the men would let slip their fascination with him.
If he only knew how much the Terran-mheasctha respected, admired and loved him. All he focused on was his inability to leave the Cave. That would end tonight.
She watched as he slipped away believing himself unobserved and waited only a few moments before leaving the group and following the brooding Terran.
* * * *
Dagda sat before the laptop screen, his fingers flying. Sióg took a moment to smile at the sight of the ancient warrior playing a game with tiny, winged humanoids shooting lightning bolts at targeted dragons.
When she had first witnessed the wonders of technology she was awed by human ingenuity. Even after discovering how many inventions, medicines and works of art and music humans with Terran blood created, she still admired the end results.
Sióg knew that Dagda expressed his frustration about his inability to leave the Cave through his fascination with gaming, but she also knew that it wasn’t enough to satisfy him.
