Dance For The Devil (27 page)

Jake’s face went as white as marble. “No,” he whispered. “Oh, God, please no.”

**

Jason pulled himself up, screaming, and began to attack Gil. The blows caught his father off guard, and Gil rolled off of Amy, covering his face.

“You stinking bastard,” Jason yelled. “I’ll kill you.” He grabbed the DVD player, ripping it from the wall, and smashed it onto Gil’s head.

“Enough,” Gil thundered, staggering backwards, but still, Jason kept at him. Amy, screaming, drew her legs up and scurried to the corner of the bed. She was in bad shape, blood poured freely from her nose. Her lower regions were a burning tangle of pain.

“I’ll kill you, you rotten maggot,” Jason hollered, smashing his fists at Gil’s face.

Gil reg
ained his balance and punched back, the blow catching Jason squarely in the jaw. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this,” Gil threatened.

Jason eyed him, anger renewed at the sight of Gil’s pants hanging around his ankles. “I am paying,” he hurled back. “I’ve been paying my whole fucking life. Just having you for a father is the worst punishment I could ever have. Can’t you see this? You’re hideous. An abomination. I wish you were dead, and I wish you weren’t my father.”

Gil rubbed his lip. “Then you’ve got your wish, you ungrateful piece of shit. You’re not my son, at least, not my biological son. That’s right, you’re adopted.” Gil’s eyes flashed savagely. “I should have known it would never work without my strength and intelligence running in your veins. It’s false what they say about environment, it’s
bloodlines
that count.”

Gil spat blood on the floor, then wiped his mouth. “Jason, you were raised to be a strong, powerful man, and yet you’re nothing but a bleeding-heart pussy. Do you hear me, boy? You’re a callow, lowbred, good-for-nothing piece of shit, and I’ve wasted sixteen years trying to mold you into something you’ll never be. You sicken me. Get out of my sight before I bash your brains in along with your girlfriend’s.”

“What?” Jason whispered. “Is it true? I’m not your son?”

“No, you’re a gutter-rat. I should have known it would never work, but Suzanne insisted, wanted a baby so badly, and we couldn’t have one of our own. So we took you, and lavished you, and spoilt you, taught you everything, reared you for greatness... and look how you turned out: a weak-willed, snivelling idiot.”

Jason was crying and his mouth was moving in an odd way. It was hard to tell through his split and swollen lips, but he appeared to be smiling. “Thank you,” he whispered. “All my life I’ve prayed you weren’t my real parents, prayed to Satan, prayed to God, prayed to anyone who would listen.”

Gil snorted his disgust. “I’m as close to a father as you’ll ever have. Don’t say a word about this to your mother or it’ll break her heart. Get yourself cleaned up and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

**

The morgue is always a lousy place to visit, but when you’re going to identify a body, it’s devastating. And if that body belongs to a child, the sensation increases hundredfold. Jake felt a dizzying nausea wash through his veins as the attendant uncovered the small form, and he began praying fervently to a God he’d begun to doubt even existed.

The body was in bad shape, but Jake knew instantly it wasn’t Skeeter. His relief washed over him like a tidal wave. “This poor kid isn’t my son.”

The morgue attendant nodded and covered the body.

Jake didn’t need to tell Cari and Carmichael, they could see the answer on his face.

“Okay,” Carmichael said, breathing deeply. “That’s one thing in our favor. I’m heading back to the station to get started on those APB’s. What are your plans?”

“You probably don’t want to know.”

“Is it legal?”

Jake remained mute and Carmichael sighed. “You’re right, I probably don’t want to know. Keep your nose out of trouble, but call me if you need me.”

“Thanks. Oh, Sergeant? I’m sorry I called you an asshole.”

“Forget it,” Benny shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. A lot worse.”

**

Skeeter regained consciousness slowly. Something foul was stuffed in his mouth and he found it difficult to breath. It was dark and cramped, and a heavy gasoline odor permeated the stale air.
A trunk
, he thought,
I’m in the trunk of a car
.

His hands were untethered and he felt around, settling on a thin, metal object. A wrench of some sort? He began to tap experimentally. To his surprise, the trunk popped open. Squinting at the sudden light, he climbed out. His entire body ached, and he stretched slowly, trying to get his bearings.

It was daylight, with heavy cloud and a light, misty rain. He was in a parking lot, although there were no other vehicles except for the one he’d just climbed out of. The building looming over him was a... church? No, more than that. It looked like a castle.

His mouth hurt, and he put a tentative finger against his lip, not surprised to feel dried blood. Rat had really whacked him a good one.

Voices.

He heard male voices, a couple of them, arguing and coming closer.

But which direction?

Skeeter looked wildly around. No place to hide. He sprinted toward the castle, wondering about calling for help, then decided to remain quiet. Didn’t look like anyone was around to help him, anyhow.

Up the front stairs? No, too obvious. He’d pretend like this was a game of hide’n’seek. Hide somewhere sneaky, where no one could find him. Like under the hedge, or in the stairwell, or... through that open window.

He was inside now. It was a castle, it said so right on the sign: Lochaven Castle Historic Museum. There was the ticket booth, but no one in it, and everything was dark. The castle was obviously closed.

Sharp knocking on the door. “Anyone in there?”

Skeeter froze.

The door started rattling. “He’s in there,” someone said, and it sounded like Rat, although Skeeter couldn’t be certain. “I bet the little bastard’s inside.”

“Break the door down.”

Skeeter ran. Through a door and around a corner, and up about a million stairs.

**

“Are we going where I think we’re going?” Cari asked.

“Yep.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“I’m tired of being wise. Now I want to get even.”

“But, Jake –”

“Listen,” he said through
gritted teeth, “I’ve tried being patient and reasonable, and I’ve tried cooperating with the cops. I’ve tried using my brain and modern technology, by gathering information and surfing the ‘net. When that failed, I tried the weird: spells and incantations and a living room full of witches who travelled astrally and made hocus-pocus predictions with crystal balls. I’ve even tried dressing for success, wearing a protection amulet, which contains things I don’t even want to think about, and donning a ridiculous hooded cape and fake tattoos.”

She looked straight ahead. “And your point is?”

“My point is, I’ve tried every recourse available, and now I’m resorting to the old-fashioned one.”

“Which is?”

“Violence.” He pulled into the parking lot of T-Bone’s gun shop.

“But, Jake...”

“Can you think of a better plan?”

She bit her lip.

“Are you with me?”

She hesitated for a moment. “As long as you understand that as neo-pagan witch, I’m a pacifist and don’t believe in harming any living creature.”

“Fair enough, but if I find the lowlife, slimy bastards who’ve taken my kids, and find they’ve so much as laid a finger on either one of them, I’m going to blow their fucking brains out. Just so you understand.”

“Okay,” she nodded, eyes wide. “I can live with that.”

**

The moment Gil left, Jason gathered Amy in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he cried, his tears mingling with hers. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” she said, her voice coming in spasms. “It’s not your fault, it’s his. He’s an animal.” Amy sobbed a bit more. “Thanks for stopping him, Jason.”

Guilt coursed through him. It
was
his fault. He was the reason Amy was here. He played a huge part in coercing her, following Gil’s orders because he was afraid not to. “I’m going to get you out of here, Amy, I promise. Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. I hurt pretty bad.”

“Come on, lean on me. The longer we take, the more chance he’ll come back.”

“Will you take me home?”

“I’m not sure where your home is, anymore. But we’ll figure something out. If we can’t find your dad, we’ll go to a hospital, or maybe to the police. Come on, Amy, hurry.”

“I can’t walk. It hurts too much.”

“Then I’ll carry you.” He picked her up and left the room, stopping abruptly. Gil was standing there, listening. “Going to the police, eh?” he sneered. “How dare you double-cross me after everything I’ve done for you? You’re finished, you ungrateful little prick. Do you hear me? From now on, you cease to be my son. You are nothing to me,
nothing.”
Gil shoved Jason squarely, sending them reeling back into the cell.

Then Gil slammed the door and turned the lock. “You stay with your whore until I think up a suitable revenge for both of you.”

**

Skeeter was high up, in a tower. The distant banging continued, and he peeked through the window and looked down.

Nothing.

The banging stopped abruptly. Had they given up? He craned his head, listening. They were calling his name. “Skeeter? We know you’re in there, man, there’s no point in hiding. Come out now and make it easy on yourself. Don’t make us mad or you’ll be sorry.”

Skeeter looked desperately around for a hiding spot. The tower was too small, they’d see him the moment they entered.

Was it too late to retrace his steps and find someplace better? He listened, again, hearing the pounding of his heart.

Wait. No, that wasn’t his heart. It was footsteps. Rat was coming after him, up the tower.

**

T-Bone grinned creepily as they entered the gun shop. He waved away his assistant, a muscular young man in military clothing. “I’ll help these guys, Mack.” To Jake, he said, “Knew you’d be back. So how was the meeting last night?”

“You were right, we were too late.”

“Told you.”

“Wasn’t a total loss, though. Decided it was a nice area for... hunting,” Jake said.

“Hunting, huh? What, bear?”

“Smaller.”

“Duck?”

“Bigger.”

T-Bone’s pale eyes sparkled. “Can you be specific?”

“
Something the size of a deer.”

“A deer, right.” He laughed his strange, raspy laugh. “Alrighty, then, I’ll need a name for the criminal check. Can’t be too careful these days, if you get my drift.”

“Absolutely,” Jake said, producing a driver’s licence.

“You’ll be wanting a rifle, then
?”

“I was thinking of something more portable, like a revolver. Something streamline, something powerful.”

“For deer hunting? It’s almost outta season, you know.”

“Not the kind of deer I’m hunting, if you get
my
drift.”

T-Bone nodded sagely. “I believe I do. Have much experience with guns?”

“Not since I was a kid goofing around with my pellet rifle.”

“Then you’ll be wanting something easy to shoot, like a scatter gun. The cops use them a lot because they don’t have to be an excellent shot. Take this puppy here, it basically aims itself. Pull the trigger and whoosh, out comes a spray of shot. It’s an awesome killing machine at close and medium range, but if you want long-range you’ll need something else.”

“No, close is fine.”

“Yeah, deer are friendly critters. You can often get quite close. Now, something for the lady?”

“Most definitely.”

“How about this sweet little Browning automatic? It’s nice and light, only two pounds, and packs fourteen rounds in its magazine. Nice little back up piece, in case those deer get hostile.”

“That’ll do.”

“And some ammunition?”

“You bet. Give me the works.”

T-Bone rang up the sale and Jake paid cash. “Good luck,” he said, winking. “Happy hunting.”

Jake smiled grimly and left the store. “Well, that was relatively painless,” he told Cari.

“I imagine the painful part comes after you pull the trigger, no matter what side of the gun you’re on.”

He cupped his hand around the shotgun, weighing it for size. “Maybe, but I think I’d rather be on this side.”

“I’ll remind you of that when I visit you in prison.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t be traced back to me. I used phoney I.D.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“Made it on the computer. See?”

She looked at it dubiously. “Terrible quality. I can’t believe he accepted it.”

“He didn’t care, it was just a formality. For the price I paid, I could have shown him the license of an eighty-year-old woman and he would have accepted it.”