Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home (12 page)

"Is my mom dead, too?"

His voice lacked any emotion.
 
He asked the question with the same enthusiasm as wondering when dinner would be ready.

"Mom," Sarah said, shaking her arm.
 
"Unlock this stupid thing."

Janet snapped out of her trance and freed Sarah.
 
She'd just finished with Mark when a man appeared in the rear office doorway.

"Don't move!"

She looked up to see Paul, the sheriff's deputy.
 
Janet and Paul had dated briefly in junior high school.
 
He stood with his arms outstretched, both hands on his revolver.
 
Janet looked up to see the weapon pointed at her.
 
If she never saw a gun again, she would be fine with that.

"Don't shoot!" she shouted, putting her hands up.
 
"Paul!
 
It's me, Janet!"

"Janet?"
 
He lowered his weapon, but was still cautious.
 
"What the hell is going on here?
 
People all over the neighborhood are talking about gunfire."

She didn't have the slightest clue on where to begin.
 
The only thing she did know was she wanted to get herself and her children as far away as she could.
 
Away from the church.
 
Away from Byron.
 
Away from Ed.

The thought of Byron and Ed made her look back to the church hall.
 
Looking over the desk, she saw Ed still lying on the floor.
 
In the distance Mitch, another of Ed's coworkers at the garage, rose to his feet between two pews.
 
Blood poured from his head and his arm was bent at the wrong angle.
 
But he was alive, one of the lucky ones.
 
Or perhaps not so lucky.
 
Janet could see herself sitting right next to Mitch in the psychiatrist's chair.

There was no sign of Byron.
 
However, his cup lay on the floor, near the goat.

Flashlights moved about the church hall, and two more officers swept the area.
 
One of them vomited at the sight of the gore and dead goat.
 
The other put Mitch in handcuffs, broken arm and all.

Paul left Janet and the children alone to join the other officers.
 
He checked for Ed's pulse, then made an announcement to call an ambulance.

Sarah and Elizabeth both embraced Janet.
 
She could barely breathe, but she didn't care.
 
Closing her eyes, she held onto that moment, squeezing her children as hard as she could.

The scene was a circus.
 
Janet sat with Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mark on the back of an open ambulance.
 
Local police as well as state police moved in and out of the church.
 
Bystanders stood outside their homes nearby, gossiping and watching the chaos.
 
The local news was camped just beyond the police barrier.
 
Veronica Chase, the closest thing to a celebrity the town had, stood on the grass with a microphone and stared into a camera.

Men carried body after body out of the church.
 
Each one was on a gurney, covered with a sheet.
 
Occasionally an arm or leg would dangle as they were loaded into various vans and driven away.
 
Janet wanted to feel sorry for them.
 
She wanted to mourn them, despite the sick practice they were in to.
 
But she was too numb.
 
She felt nothing.

The children must have felt the same way, as they said nothing.
 
They all sat motionless, staring straight ahead.
 
Sarah held Mark's hand.
 
Janet didn't know what she was going to do.
 
How would she explain to Sarah and Elizabeth what happened here tonight?
 
How would they heal, move on?

Would
they heal?

Another gurney was wheeled out, but it didn't carry a dead body.
 
Ed was strapped down, his wrists handcuffed to the rails.
 
He searched around frantically as flashbulbs continued to light up the night.
 
Janet stiffened when he finally saw her.

"Janet!" he shouted.
 
"I did it for us!
 
I promise!
 
It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

She clenched her eyes shut as they loaded him into the back of another van.
 
Sarah didn't move; she simply cried quietly.
 
Elizabeth tried to run to her father, but Janet held her back.
 
Unable to get away, Elizabeth simply turned and cried into Janet's stomach.

Paul approached them and offered a sympathetic smile.
 
He was smart enough not to offer condolences, or say anything at all.
 
There were simply no words that would do any good.

He turned his attention to Mark, and knelt down to make eye contact with the boy.

"You're Mark, right?"

The boy sniffled.
 
"Yeah."

"I'm Paul.
 
Listen, we need to talk for a minute.
 
Just you and me."

Paul grabbed Mark's hand.
 
Paul made eye contact with Janet as he led him away, and she felt a weight on her chest.
 
His gaze said it all.

Mary, Mark's mother, was dead.

Janet wiped tears from her eyes as she held her children once again.
 
She'd lost count of how many times she took them in her arms over the past twenty minutes.
 
She'd continue to do so until they tired of it, and probably even then.

Mindlessly glancing at the people around her, Janet's entire body tensed when she saw him.

Byron.

He was suddenly just there, talking with another police officer, one from the state.
 
His clothes were different, a full suit and jacket with tie.
 
He was well-groomed, not a hair out of place, not a drop of blood on him.
 
In each hand was an expensive-looking suitcase.
 
Byron and the officer shared a quiet laugh before Byron handed over one of the suitcases.
 
The officer lifted it up and down, as if testing its weight.
 
The officer then handed over a small object in a plastic bag.
 
Byron examined it, and they gave each other a curt nod before the officer walked away.

Byron turned and stared directly at her.
 
He didn't need to search.
 
He knew exactly where she was.

Janet's breath hitched as he approached.
 
She protectively placed a hand on each daughter's shoulder.
 
They noticed him as well, and Elizabeth squeezed against her mother's ribs.

"Mommy," she whimpered.

"It's okay, baby," Janet said, trying to think logically.
 
Byron wouldn't dare try to hurt them in front of so many people.
 
"Just stay close.
 
Stay with me."

Byron laughed at their fear as he drew within earshot.
 
Janet noticed a large badge pinned to his coat.
 
Squatting down, he looked both children in the eye.

"We meet again, Sarah, Elizabeth.
 
Listen, do you see your friend Mark over there?"

They turned to see Mark sitting in the grass.
 
His stare was blank, emotionless.
 
Paul stood not far away, talking to another officer while gesturing to the boy.

"He just lost his mommy.
 
You should go talk to him and lie about how everything will be okay while I talk to your mother."

Sarah and Elizabeth looked to Janet for direction.
 
She kissed them on the forehead and flashed a reassuring smile.

"It's okay.
 
Go talk to Mark."

They ran off, and Janet watched them the entire way.
 
Sarah hugged Mark tightly, and Janet realized how amazing her children were.
 
Elizabeth held his hand.
 
They were caring, compassionate, even after a group of adults showed them no such thing.

Byron set the suitcase down and sat next to Janet.
 
He held the plastic bag, letting it hang between his knees.
 
Inside was the cup Byron had come to claim.

"Ah, what a day," he said, as if coming home from a long day at work.

"So…you're a police officer," she said sarcastically.

"I am right now.
 
I'm just renting this badge.
 
It cost a pretty penny.
 
Everything about today was expensive.
 
But I happen to be very rich."

Janet looked over the people crying in each other's arms.
 
The police continued to work, but there was pain in their movements as well.
 
Even Veronica Chase was wiping a tear from her eye off camera.

"You're not human, are you?"

His eyes lit up, as if she'd finally said something of interest.

"Ah, so, you
do
have a brain in that pretty little skull of yours.
 
I was, once.
 
But humans have a certain set of rules applied to them.
 
And I stopped following those rules a long time ago."

"You killed everyone, all those people.
 
You killed that boy's mother.
 
Over a cup.
 
Was it worth it?"

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
 
"I didn't get them all, but I killed as many as I could.
 
I gave them a choice.
 
They chose wrong.
 
And you're not looking at the big picture, Janet, something mortals struggle with.
 
What do you think would have happened had I not been here to collect my property today?"

Byron was quiet, to let his words sink in.
 
Janet thought back to the horrific scene in the church.
 
Chanting, robes, her husband on his knees praying next to a slaughtered goat.

"You saw what they were doing," he said.
 
"You'll try to convince yourself that never happened, but I know you heard them.
 
You
felt
them.
 
Like old Ed said, they were coming."

Janet shivered as she replayed that inhuman moaning in her mind.

"What were they?"

"Like I said before, the world isn't what you think it is.
 
If I hadn't been here, they would have summoned something they couldn't have controlled.
 
The church?
 
Up in flames.
 
This entire shit-hole town…what's it called?
 
Blossom?
 
Poof, gone.
 
Shit, I
saved
this town."
 
He smiled smugly.
 
"I'm a damn hero."

"You're a murderer."

Byron shrugged.
 
"Eh, sounds like jealousy to me."

She held her head in her hands.
 
Her entire world was coming apart.
 
Only twelve hours ago, she was waking up next to her husband after a passionate night together.
 
Ten minutes ago, she watched him being taken away, handcuffed to a gurney, after organizing a cult ceremony.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she whispered.

The question wasn't meant for Byron, but he answered anyway.

"I don't care.
 
Divorce your husband, suck his dick, study the supernatural world.
 
Whatever gets your blood pumping.
 
Whatever you do…."
 
He slid the suitcase toward her with his foot.
 
"This will help you get started."

"What's in there?"

"Money.
 
Consider it a parting gift, for the lovely day we had together."

Janet stared into his eyes, looking for any signs of deception.
 
He was completely serious.

"I don't want your money.
 
I don't
need
your money."

"Janet, I'm going to get up and walk away.
 
I'm going to leave that suitcase there.
 
If a hobo walks by and takes it, I don't care.
 
But who would get better use out of all the green that's in there?
 
A hobo, or you?"

She grudgingly shifted the suitcase closer to her.
 
He rose to his feet.

"That's what I thought."
 
Surveying the ordeal around them that would no doubt make the national news, an eerie smile crossed his face.
 
"Well, I've got what I came here for.
 
My business is done.
 
I hope we never see each other again."

"Yeah.
 
Believe me, that makes two of us."

Byron took one step, but froze.
 
Janet stared at his back for a moment, watching him struggle with something.
 
He turned and sat next to Janet once again, a conflicted look in his eye.
 
She waited patiently for whatever he had to say.

"I'm only telling you this because I
almost
respect you.
 
Your oldest daughter, Sarah, you have to kill her.
 
Elizabeth, there might be hope for her.
 
But Sarah…she's got to go."

Janet jumped up and clenched both fists.
 
It took everything she had not to lash out in anger.

"What?!"

"Or drop her off at the dog pound.
 
Whatever.
 
I know it won't be easy.
 
If you want, you and I can work out a deal—"