Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror (10 page)

“No.”

“Anyone else around here know her well?”

Why was I continuing to ask questions?

“No.” 

“Nothing else for me, huh?”

She just stared at me.

“Thanks.  You’ve been a
tremendous
help.” 

Don’t poke the bears, Cat,
my cautious inner voice warned. 

I turned away from the bartender and inspected my surroundings. 

All the walls were painted flat black, as was the ceiling.  Thick silver chains dangled from the rafters.  The bar and tables were shiny black lacquer and all the stools were covered in black vinyl accented with metal studs around the edge.  Everything was black, even the lights, which gave all the uber white faces an unnatural glow and made their liner-rimmed eyes looked like dark hollow pits.

One guy was particularly scary; he had a spider web tattooed across his face.  I stared a few seconds too long, which triggered a gruesome smile.  The action displayed a row of white teeth filed to points. He was probably a good one to sharpen my “seeing” skills on.  When I slid off the barstool to approach him, he growled at me. 

Maybe someone a little less scary first,
I thought, walking past him to study the graffiti on the wall behind him. 

Various symbols and letters had been painted on the wall as well as the floor.  The ones on the floor had been covered with a thick layer of shellac.  At the edge of a small round table was the swirly symbol that I’d seen at both murder scenes.

I was backing up as I looked at the other markings on the floor when I bumped into someone.  I turned to apologize, but when I saw the bald hulk that I’d hit, I jerked back and lost my balance.  I reached out and the first purchase I could gain was his beefy, sleeveless, tattooed arm.  And then I couldn’t move.

Chapter Nine

The instant my palms made contact with his skin, menacing images poured into my mind: black-cloaked figures prostrate before a grotesque idol; blood seeping from a knife buried between two flat nipples; the cut and bruised face of a young girl with short, blonde hair; steam rising from a red hot branding iron, pressed against flesh.  And Mistee.  A brief flash of her pretty face and then it was replaced by the image of a dark creature with glowing red eyes.  And then it was gone, leaving a living blackness in its wake.

Fear rippled through me, but it was soon drowned by a wave of nausea.  Like before, I felt as if I was being sucked into a black hole.  Unable to speak, I stared into the empty eyes of the man before me.  Instinctively, I yanked my hand away. 

I jerked back so violently, I lost my balance again; however, I kept my hands to myself that time, which landed me flat on my back in the middle of the decorative floor.  The air rushed out of my lungs and my teeth chattered on impact.

My view of the big bear of a man was interrupted by a petite girl of about twenty.  She offered her hand in assistance and, without thinking, I took it.  She pulled me to my feet. 

Once again, I was immobilized by images I siphoned from another’s mind:  the excitement of being strangled during intercourse; the burn of hot wax on her nipples; blood from the severed head of a cat dripping into a goblet; the flickering candlelight on her naked skin as she sat inside a pentagram, calling on something dark—something or some
one
.

I tried to free my hand from her grasp, but my strength was sapped.  My head spun lightly.  Nausea rolled through my stomach.  Saliva rushed into my mouth.  My heart pounded in my ears.  Inch by inch, the young girl’s face was being swallowed by the fuzzy gray of oblivion.  Then strong fingers circled my upper arms and pulled me backward.

The instant my hand was free of hers, my head began to clear.  I recognized the familiar and comforting scent, expected the cerulean eyes and velvety voice that greeted me before I turned and buried my face in the chest of Detective Tegan.  At that moment I didn’t care how much he aggravated me; I was glad to be in his arms.  Safe.

“Are you alright?” His words rumbled in his chest; I felt them as much as heard them.

“Detective Tegan,” I mumbled, the sting of unshed tears burning my eyes.  Was this going to be my life?  Unable to touch anyone for fear of what I might see or how I might freak out?

“What are you doing here?”  His tone made is sound like he was… irritated.  Although that struck me as odd, I was too overwhelmed with everything else to give it much thought.

Processing his words was like looking through soup.  Formulating a response took mammoth effort.  “I-um.  We-.  I- I’m looking for a girl named Cassidy.  I was hoping she had some information about Mistee.”

I turned to make my way back to the bar and ran right into Big Bear again.  He looked inordinately furious.  Through the cotton in my head, I heard some profanity and something about keeping your woman in line then Big Bear pushed Tegan—hard.  The impact sent us both stumbling. 

Tegan righted us quickly then set me away from him before he turned on his attacker.  So quickly I had trouble following the movements, Tegan had knocked a wicked-looking knife from the hand of the hulking Big Bear. 

Big Bear recovered, coming around with one ham-like fist.  Tegan ducked and landed a solid punch to Big Bear’s ribs.  With a grunt, Big Bear doubled over.  Holding on to the other man’s head, Tegan planted a knee in his face, once, twice.  Blood and saliva dripped from Big Bear’s face to the floor.  When Tegan released his head, Big Bear fell first to his knees then over onto his face with a dull thump.  He was out cold.  The music never stopped, but no one was listening anyway; all eyes were on Big Bear.  No one moved a muscle. 

In retrospect, that might’ve been one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, but at the time I was too addled to appreciate it. 

Tegan hollered to the bartender to call 911.  She stared at him blankly. Tegan tore out his badge and repeated the order.  Her eyes widened in realization and she sprang into motion, reaching beneath the counter to pull out a cordless phone and punch in the numbers.

What was the deal?  Everywhere I went there was violence of some sort.  Or maybe it wasn’t
me.

“Tegan, I-. That man-.” I stopped.  If I told Tegan about my suspicion that Big Bear may have been involved with Mistee or her death somehow, how could I explain coming by that information?  I couldn’t.  So, for the time being, I decided to keep my mouth shut. 

His attention back on me, Tegan bent to look into my face.  “Are you here alone?”

“No.  I brought Carter.” 

I looked around for my brother, but he was nowhere in sight.  The ear-splitting pop-pop-pop of gunfire drew everyone’s attention.  It was difficult to tell where it had come from, but the pale-faced Goth were taking no chances.  In a rash of screams, they dropped like dominos, taking cover under tables, chairs, the bar, and each other. 

Not fully recovered from my siphoning semi-stupor, I was still standing and happened to see the muzzle flash as more bullets pelted the club.  Next thing I saw was the black floor. Then I felt a warm, heavy body covering mine.  Tegan. 

I heard a loud clatter among the screams then Tegan’s weight was gone.  I peeked up and saw him dashing across the club in pursuit of a tall, vest-clad figure who was bolting for the door.  I lay motionless on the floor, listening.  I looked around and saw that most others in the club were doing the same thing, all of us too scared to move.

A minute or two later, Tegan burst back through the door, hauling the man I assumed was the gunman by the back of his vest.  He shouted for someone to turn on the house lights.  As the door closed, I could see the red and blue flash of patrol car lights.  I must not have been the only one to see them because Goth bodies scattered like dust in the wind.  In a few short seconds, the club was nearly empty.  Apparently there was a back door.

One or two at a time, people started filtering back into the brightly lit room, murmuring and complaining.  I thought it curious until I saw two uniformed officers, guns drawn, bringing up the rear.  Obviously they had found the back door, too.

For the umpteenth time in a few short days, I found myself answering the detailed questions of law enforcement officials.  They asked us all to stay put until they could get the scene sorted out.  I kept my eyes peeled for my brother, worthless traitor that he was, but I never saw him.  First sign of trouble and he was gone. 

When the cops were out of ear shot, I called Carter’s cell phone.  He answered on the second ring.

“Where are you?” I spat in hushed tones.

“Sorry, Cat.  I was in my truck when I heard the gunshots.  Then the police pulled in.  I freaked, hid until they went inside then I split.  I just don’t need that kind of trouble, ya know?”

“Whatever,” I hissed, annoyed by his selfishness.  “Are you coming back?  Or were you just going to leave me here?”

“I can pick you up, but it’ll have to be later.  I don’t need a run in with cops right now, Cat.  If anyone asks, just tell ‘em I left with a friend before all the action started.”

“Carter, I don’t want to hang around here half the night.  Come and get me.”

“Forget it!  You’ll just have to wait.”

“You are such a prick,” I forced through clenched teeth and slammed my phone shut. 

Needing to move, I scooted off the stool I’d been perched upon and meandered around the club.  I rubbed my hands up and down my cool arms in an effort to warm them. 

“Here,” said a deep voice next to my ear as a warm jacket was laid across my shoulders.  If I hadn’t recognized the voice in that one syllable, I would’ve known the smell that wafted up from the coat.

When I looked over my shoulder to thank him, Tegan’s face was inches from mine.  My breath caught in my throat.  I held it tight in my lungs as we stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity.  The appearance of his frown broke the spell. 

“Where’s your brother?  Is he taking you home?” 

“No.  He left before all this started and hasn’t come back.”

He sighed.  “I’ll take you.” 

I wanted to take exception to him acting like he was so put out, but I didn’t want it to seem like I gave a rip
what
put him out.  So, I simply smiled a tight little smile.  “Thanks.”

On our way through the club, we passed Big Bear just as they were slapping cuffs on his wrists.  All I could think of was that his might be the face of a killer— Mistee’s killer.  Tegan urged me forward.

Once we were out of the club and inside Tegan’s Navigator, he turned the heat on full blast and directed all the vents on my side toward my chest and face. 

We had traveled several miles before either of us spoke. 

“Do you think your brother was involved in any way with Mistee’s death?”  As far as ice breakers go, that one sucked.

“No!”  Carter didn’t have the best reputation in the world and it was a little suspicious that he, wild child of Bethel, had been interested in a seminary student.  It sounded far-fetched even to me, but it just so happened to be true.  “Carter is trying to turn his life around.  Mistee had a crush on him and he thought he was ready to settle down.  Other than planning to meet at the club, that’s all there was to it.  She was killed before they developed any kind of relationship.”

“Do you know Ken Wallace?”

It took my brain a second to change gears.  And it was no wonder, really.  I had a pile of stuff to sort through and that pile was growing by the minute.  Understandably, my mind wasn’t accepting new direction very readily.  “The name sounds familiar, but I’m drawing a blank.” 

“The victim from the house you were showing yesterday was identified as Kenneth Jacob Wallace, the minister of Smyrna Lutheran Church in Bethel.”