Eve of Redemption (6 page)

Without warning, the other presence vanished.
What are you up to?
No matter, it was all part of the game. And the Serpent knew that, of all the players, he stood the best chance to win. He pulled the stolen old car to the curb a block from the house and sat there inhaling the polluted night air. Most hated the smell of the air in the city—those who still noticed it, anyway—but the Serpent thought it a lovely perfume.

The perfume of chaos.

The Serpent closed his eyes and focused his awareness on his old pal John Burke. His mind slipped into that of the weary man and he began working his magic. An encounter with the missing wife was just the thing to drag Burke even deeper into despair. The Serpent imagined the scenario, and then set it in motion. It still amazed him how he could make Burke experience anything his twisted mind desired. The best part was that—to Burke—it seemed like real life. The guy couldn’t tell the difference. Now, all the Serpent had to do was enjoy the show. And what a show it would be. It would also give him time to stash the surprise he had brought his old friend.

The Serpent drummed a quick beat on the steering wheel with the fingers of both hands, punctuating the final beat by throwing the car door open. He jumped out and slammed the door behind him. Stealth was unnecessary. People saw what they wanted to see, and they rarely saw him. He was one of the invisible ones, so plain that people looked right through him. He thought of it as a gift, sort of like the gift that connected him with Burke. Of course, when he was younger it had bothered him, but as he learned to use his gifts, he discovered that being invisible was really pretty cool.

The Serpent inserted the car key into the trunk lock and popped it open. He reached inside, pulled out a large duffel bag, and slung the strap over his shoulder. The bag was heavy, but he hardly gave it a thought. He was the chosen one of Lord Denizen, after all, and had little use for the limitations of the average human body. He turned and started toward the house without bothering to close the trunk. No one would notice, and Burke would be much too busy to catch him setting up the next phase of the game. The Serpent whistled a merry tune as he strolled across the street.

BURKE SAT IN the silence of the dark house. Since the disappearances, his life had spun out of control. Maybe his mind had finally snapped. The previous night he had seriously contemplated ending his life; he was beginning to wonder if he had tried and something had gone wrong. Too many things in this strange day made no sense—the little girl who kept disappearing, the beating in the park, and the subsequent rescue by Dave Martinez. Now, he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Just like that, the depression and self-loathing were gone.

He was pulling himself to his feet when he heard a thump from above. His eyes darted upward as he spun the flashlight toward the stairs. He didn’t know what this kid’s game was, but he was determined to catch her and find out. Moving more quickly now, he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He shined the flashlight down the hallway. The door to his right had been Sara’s room. It remained just as she had left it four years ago. The first door on the left was the extra room they had made into an office. Next came the bathroom, and at the end of the hall lay the master bedroom.

The night had been cool, but inside the house felt hot and stuffy. He shrugged off his coat and let it fall to the floor. A sound at the end of the hallway spun him in that direction. He pointed the light at the door of the master bedroom and took a step toward it. “I know you’re in there,” he called in a hoarse voice. “You come on out now.”

Burke’s nerves were strung taut; his heart pounded.

John.

No,
he thought.
I didn’t hear that. No way.

John.

Again, from the direction of the bedroom—quiet, very quiet, but there.

John.

He took another step toward the closed door. The voice, so familiar even in a near whisper. He caught the scent of perfume—Laura’s perfume. It had to be the little girl, he told himself. She must have found some of Laura’s perfume and sprayed it. After all, it was all still in there. His rationalizations were unconvincing. The whispered voice that drew him was not the little girl’s.

John.

“Laura? Is that you?” Though he knew it was impossible after all these years, the hope that he had kept from himself for so long erupted within him. “Laura?” Burke stomped the last few steps toward the door and flung it open. He didn’t shine the light in the room, didn’t want to confirm what he already knew—that the room was empty and Laura was just a figment of his crazed imagination.

He heard his own rasping breath as he peered into the darkness. Someone was there, in front of the window, taller than the little girl but still small and slender. “Laura?” The scent of her perfume was unmistakable.

Remembering the flashlight in his hand, Burke swung it toward the dark figure. His heart pounded as the light illuminated her—his Laura—wearing the outfit she’d worn the day she disappeared. Her chestnut hair hung down her back in a long ponytail, just as he remembered it. “Laura, it…it really is you?”

Burke stumbled into the room, his heart bursting as his eternal prayer was finally answered.
Thank you God,
he thought.
Thank you so much.

John.

She began to turn. Burke kept the light on her with one hand and extended the other toward her. She looked up, and he gazed longingly into a face that was not his wife’s. He stumbled back, throwing his arm up in a vain attempt to erase what he had just seen. The face he had so expected to be that of his beautiful wife was burned forever in his mind. Her left eye was a gaping socket, the wriggling mass of two entwined worms darting around the edges. The flesh that had once been so perfect now hung in rotting tatters.

John…John…

“No,” Burke shouted as he backed toward the door. “Keep away from me.” He made his way through the door and into the hallway. Not wanting to look back but unable to stop himself, he turned toward the room he had just left. The figure that could not be his wife stood just inside the door. He could only shake his head back and forth.

John. Why John? Why did you leave me, John?

The scent of her perfume overpowered him. It had become a grotesque distortion of his wife’s scent, unable to mask the smell of death. Burke turned away and tripped over the coat he had let drop moments earlier. He landed hard on his bad hip and tumbled over the edge of the stairs. He rolled, crashing into the wall on one side and the rail on the other before slamming his head against the edge of one of the hard stairs, nearly knocking himself unconscious.

He landed with his head and shoulders on the floor while the rest of his body lay sprawled across the lower steps. Stars danced in the darkness. For a moment he could not remember what had happened, and then light footsteps on the stairs brought him back. He forced his feet to push him off the last few steps. His shoulder hit the flashlight, and he fumbled for it with one hand as he continued to scoot away from the approaching nightmare. Spinning the light in his shaking fingers, he found the switch and pressed it, but the light refused to illuminate.

Why John, why?

“Stay away from me, whatever you are. Stay away!” Horror pervaded his voice. He wondered if his mind had finally snapped. Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown. His only consolation was that it could not get any worse.

He was wrong.

Daddy.

Oh no,
Burke’s mind screamed
. Please no.
He spun on hands and knees, seeking the source of this new voice. His swollen eyes opened as wide as they could while he searched the darkness like a cornered beast.

Daddy.

Behind him. Burke spun around as a shadow moved toward him.

Daddy, why?

The apparition moved closer, the smell of death closing in with her. Burke crawled backward, anything to get away from this madness. Death and perfume filled the room. The specter of his wife had completed her slow descent down the stairs, and he nearly collided with her legs in his haste to escape.

John.

Daddy.

Why? Why?

The shadow of his daughter lurched toward him, arms outstretched for one last embrace. A flash of headlights from outside fleetingly lit the room, leaving a burned impression of the ragged and bloodied face of his little girl on his eyes.

Why Daddy? Why didn’t you save me?

Burke’s back hit a wall, preventing his escape. “You aren’t them!” he shouted. “You aren’t my family!”

He threw the useless flashlight at the shadow of his wife, but the specter continued to advance. The stench grew almost unbearable, and he felt a cold touch on his neck. The touch became stronger, more aggressive, as icy fingers closed over his throat. The fingers tightened until he gasped for air. He clawed at the hand that held him in a vice-like grip. His lungs burned for air, and his eyes felt as though they would burst from their swollen sockets. He thought he heard pounding, loud at first, and then growing more distant. As the grip on this throat continued to tighten, he felt his last vestige of hope slip away along with consciousness.

J
ohn…hey John, wake up. Come on, man.”

From deep within the darkest pit, Burke heard the words and thought they must belong to the devil. With the words came pain and, unfortunately, consciousness. Languid thoughts danced around beneath his closed eyelids. Why was there always pain?

Again, the voice hovering over him. “Come on, man.”

Burke groaned and tried to sink back into the darkness, but the persistent voice was not going to have it. “You all right? See if you can sit up.”

Burke certainly did not want to sit up, but he seemed unable to communicate that point. He felt hands on his arms pulling him, causing his head to explode in a dazzling array of fireworks. Finally, he managed to pry his eyes open. The swelling that limited his sight brought back vague memories of all that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.

He blinked as his vision cleared. A huge shadow hovered over him. He kicked out at it.

“Hold up. It’s me, Dave Martinez. Easy now.” Strong hands held him still until he began to calm down.

“Who…Martinez?” Burke closed his eyes as a light shone on his face. He tried to push it away. “Stop…get that out of my face.” The light turned away far enough to illuminate the hulking police officer. Burke noticed the man no longer wore his uniform. “What’re you doing here?” His words came out slurred through his raw throat.

“Was worried about you,” the cop said. “Couldn’t get what happened out of my head. Looked up your address. I’m making a habit of finding you out cold. Sounded like a fight going on in here, but when I got the door open you were alone.”

Burke let out a heavy sigh as his body relaxed against the wall. “Where are they?” he asked.

Martinez looked confused. “Who?”

Burke shook his head slowly. “They were here, waiting for me.”

“Who was here?”

“Laura…Sara…here.”