Absolution (5 page)

“Bullshit. You two are up to somethin’. Farley’s right. Somethin’ ain’t right with you two,” Ted said.

Well, that confirmed one suspicion, Luc thought.

Crocker set the drinks on the ground and moved toward Fritz. “It’s a fucking statue.”

Luc snorted. “That’s what I keep saying.” He watched Rice move behind Ted, his hand on the back of the man’s neck as he urged him forward.

“If you don’t believe it, check him out yourself,” Rice said.

“Crocker, you’re closest, do it,” Ted ordered.

Fritz rose to his full seven-foot height. His wings unfurled. Brackish green fountain water dripped from the spiky tips and bony support cartilage. “Hello, boys. Or should I say goodbye.”

Crocker staggered backwards. “He’s real?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Luc said.

The men fumbled with their weapons, their wide-eyed gazes glued to Fritz.

Rice grasped Ted’s head in his hands, jerked, and snapped his neck. With blinding speed, he swung to his right and fisted his hand in Crocker’s hair. His knife flashed across the norm’s neck, severing his windpipe and carotid artery.

With a shake of his head at the bloody mess, Lucan turned to Fritz. “Can you dispose of the bodies?”

“No problem.” He gathered both men under one massive arm. “Where do you want them? A couple hundred miles out over the Atlantic?”

He shook his head. “Take them to the cabin. We’ve got to make it look like we barely survived these two and Earl. We’ve got to be wearing the proof they turned on us. Otherwise, Farley will drain us dry.” He scowled. “Damn, we need bruises. Hope your granite fist is in good shape. We’ll need to appear more dead than alive.”

“I’ll take care of it. Meet you two later, say at...eight?”

At his nod, Fritz spread his wings and took to the air.

“Nice of you to offer me up as a gargoyle punching bag.” Rice wiped his blade on a cloth. With a flick of his fingers, he incinerated the evidence and blood soaking into the pavement.

“We can always lay into each other instead.” Luc flicked a hair off his shirt. “Think, Rice, what will Farley’s reaction be if we return unblemished?” At Rice’s grimace, he nodded. “Right. Healer or no, we’d be dead within minutes. Sorry, daemon, we’re in a fight to save our lives, including some knife and gunshot wounds that the healer can repair, but leave a scar.”

“Good to see your death wish doesn’t extend to me.”

“I’m soul-deep tired of being tired, not suicidal.”

“Sure you aren’t.” He sheathed his knife, and retrieved the bags of food. “Grab the coffee.”

Luc’s stomach lurched at the thought of blood followed by food. “Shit, and they think I’m nuts.”

“Gotta eat, man. No sense letting it go to waste. Sure don’t want any more of that crap you’ve been poisonin—” He chuckled with a raised brow. His eyes finally returned to hazel. “—What? You think I didn’t know? Damn, Druid, it’s been hell modifying this body to look sick.”

CHAPTER 5

The pain, terror, and anguish within the small room lashed and suffocated Allana as if the walls were closing in on her. Mrs. Burts sat next to her, rocking in a near catatonic state, and for good reason. Her husband had beaten the toddler to near death.

Allana’s hand rested on the child’s forehead as her gaze slid to Mr. Burts, who stared out the window, his arms crossed with a semi-automatic rifle resting on his forearm.

She inhaled and shuddered. The cabin reeked of his corruption, permeating every atom and molecule of this room. Its strong and acrid vapor burned her exposed skin and seared her eyes and the hairs deep in her nostrils.

Goddess above, sometimes she cursed her ability. Healing took energy, always best delivered when surrounded by love. Fear was okay. She could work around it because when a loved one was sick, one felt fear and panic. The press of Mr. Burt’s depravity on her body and its unrelenting stench made it difficult, if not almost impossible, for her to save this child.

Slanting him another glance, she exhaled, trying to halt the biting odor of sulfur along with tar-like oil of evil coating the back of her tongue and the gag it instigated. “Mr. Burts?”

“Yes.”

She struggled not to wince as she ignored his wife’s groan. “I need you to move outside. I’m sure you can sufficiently guard us from whoever did this on the porch.”

“Sorry, Healer, no can do.”

“Then the child will die. I can’t work with your—”

“My what?”

Mrs. Burts grabbed her wrist and held tight. “You have to save her.” Her eyes flitted to the man’s and back to hers. “She’s all I’ve got left.”

Allana met her terrified and pleading gaze. In that moment, she understood. A trap had been set and sprung, this family the bait. No doubt, the woman’s husband, the child’s real father, had died in the attempt to protect his family. If this creature—she refused to consider the false Mr. Burts human—was a member of the Brotherhood and had followed their protocol, he had killed the father and the injuries inflicted on the child left her at death’s door.

All because of her.

She forced a calm façade. If she couldn’t control her reaction to the man, all would be lost. “I’ll do my best. What are your names?”

“Mine’s Sally.” Tears rolled unchecked down her checks. She lightly brushed the backs of her fingers along the toddler’s cheek and raised her gaze to Allana. “Mandy’s only three. Please save her.”

She nodded in silent encouragement. Oh, she would save the child...and the mother, then she would teleport them all to safety. As the humans said,
fuck ‘em
. Allana placed a hand under Mandy’s head and the other on her forehead. Her eyes closed. She turned her sight outward, letting her essence float into the child. Her mind focused to merge with Mandy.

She searched for the most life threatening wounds and tunneled into the child’s brain, melding herself with the fragile mesh of Mandy’s cerebellum. Ripped vessels and small arteries oozed blood into delicate tissue. She isolated damaged and dying cells from healthy. Pinpoint white light, much like the norm’s lasers, sealed the tears and evaporated the liquid on the surface. Her energy permeated and quarantined one lobe at a time as she eased through the labyrinth of each layer until she stopped every leak, and prevented further damage and death.

Satisfied, she floated down the brain stem into Mandy’s spine and stilled at the sight. It was a miracle the child was still alive. She carefully matched torn nerve fibers, sealed minor tears, halted leaks of spinal fluid, and ensured stability. Spotting a cracked vertebra, she mended bone and eased the swollen disk.

Then she focused her attention on the child’s ruptured spleen and torn liver. The hemorrhaging fissures seared closed, she gave silent vent to her rage, grateful that in this state no one could hear her internal screams at what this child had endured.

Allana turned to the spiral shattered right ulna. She fit the puzzle pieces together, knitting them together into one seamless forearm bone. She could prevent Mandy suffering the aches from broken limbs, but was helpless to heal the broken heart that would come from the loss of her father or the memory of what had happened to her. Events didn’t determine character, rather how one dealt with them did. Mandy’s character, even at this young age, was strong and honorable, as was her mother’s.

Now to get them all to safety. She began to disengage from Mandy, then stilled. No, that would never work. Weakness infused every muscle of Allana’s body. She had used most of her power to heal the child. From experience, she could either save herself or use what was left of her energy send the two norms to the safety of her rooms in the boardinghouse one hamlet over.

Save the two innocents or herself, but not all three.

Goddess, hear my prayer. I beseech you. Protect this child and her mother from further harm. Allow me sufficient energy to teleport them to safe haven
.

White light filled her. With a mental sigh, she completely withdrew from Mandy and back into her own body. Straightening, she nodded to Sally, joined the mother and child’s hands, and placed hers atop theirs.

“You finished, Healer,” the man growled.

Allana smiled. “Almost, there’s one more thing to complete. May the Goddess protect you both and shower you with her light and love.” Not even a flash of light signaled the disappearance. Shoulders sagging, she allowed herself a quick breath of relief.

“What the hell? Where’d they go?”

She lifted her gaze to his and winced under the assault of his corrupt soul visible within the emotionless depths of his eyes. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug.

He reached her in two long strides, his weapon raised. The last of her energy faded as he slammed the rifle’s butt against her forehead.

***

They pulled to a stop beside Crocker’s sister’s cabin. When Luc stepped out of the SUV, an oppressive blanket of terror and death almost took him to his knees. He slanted Rice a glance. “Looks like Earl’s gotten a head start on his...
fun
?”

“If the guy were a half-breed like Farley, I’d say they were twins.”

“Yeah, twins like DeVito and Schwarzenegger.” He snorted. “Let’s hope the healer’s alive. If she isn’t, I get Earl.”

“I can smell her life force.” Rice’s nostrils twitched. “Strong but quiescent. Protect her. I’ll take care of the bastard.”

“You’re a regular saint.” Luc sneered, secretly relieved. He didn’t need the burden of another death laid on his soul. Not right now. Let the do-gooder daemon kill off these bastards.

Maybe if he saved the healer, found the blasted princess, and returned Allana to Otherworld unharmed, it would lessen his penance before the guardian at Summerland’s pearly gates.

Yeah, like it would make a difference given the length and volume of his sins. He gave a mental shrug. It didn’t matter. He planned to leave this plane of existence once he completed this final mission. Here was hoping Druid beliefs were correct, that death was merely a point of change in perpetual existence. Unfortunately, if they were wrong, by ending his own life he would erase his soul from the timeline of future lives. At this point, never to feel or to have to experience such deep-seated anguish again wasn’t a bad alternative.

Luc, I’m about fifty feet in from the tree line with the bodies. Get rid of the bastard guarding the healer.

Rice said she’s okay. You agree?

Yes, for now. The rage inside the creature guarding her is close to escaping. He may not know it, but somewhere in his family’s past, a daemon mated with a norm
.

Luc elbowed Rice and nodded toward the woods. “Fritz is waiting over there with the other two.” As they stepped onto the porch, a loose board creaked. Fuck, there went the element of surprise.

The door banged opened. Earl stood in the doorway, an old Ruger Model 44 aimed at Rice’s head. “’bout time ya got here.”

At the doorway, Luc sniffed, unable to hide his scowl as he inhaled the sour mix of blood, urine, and death. “You kill someone?”

“The husband. The bitch saved the girl and sent her and the ma somewhere. Don’t know where.” He studied the yard. “Expect company right soon, though. The kid’s ma ain’t gonna keep quiet. She’ll run her mouth and then we’ll have the militia on our asses.” He moved back as they entered.

“Sonuvabitch. You’ve single handily screwed this in-and-out operation.” Luc scanned the room. His lips tightened at the sight of the healer secured on the bed, her left eye swollen. The hot pounding of his heart blazed at the delicate woman’s damage. He gritted his teeth to keep from launching at Earl and finishing him there and then. His gaze met Rice’s as they both surveyed the damage. The daemon’s brown eyes turned black with their flickers of red, boiling rage had bypassed simmer without a pause.

Luc faced Earl. “She put up a fight?” He needed to hear him say the words, needed the time to control the darkness bubbling so close to the surface.

“Nah. One tap on the head and she was out. Hogtied the gal after roughin’ her up a bit. Farley don’t care what we do, just wants her breathin’ when we dump her at his feet.” Earl moved to the doorway with Rice and glanced back to the bed, then to Luc. “That gal’s got some serious magick. Feared she’d join the kid and her ma, so I col’ cocked her.”

He didn’t doubt subduing her wasn’t all Earl had in mind. Fortunately, they had arrived in time to curtail further violence.

Luc eased past him, careful not to allow Earl’s black aura, riddled with gray lesions, to touch and further soil his already decrepit soul. He turned from Earl and scanned the cabin. “Where’s the husband.”

“In the shed. Dead.”

The months Luc had spent with Farley’s squads reinforced how quickly fear of change turned to loathing and then to violence in a misguided need to hold their world and maintain their place in it. Fear of losing their pathetic little patch of ground in these poverty-infested mountains affected a quick and permanent shift in some norms. The change, ugly and foul.

As for Earl, if Fritz was correct, that hint of demon in his genes had only needed this opportunity to rise to the forefront.