The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series) (17 page)

“What is that, sir?”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Satan is pleased. Continue on
.”

The pain subsided. He watched
Melissa
dig precise symbols onto Camille’s eyelids, listened a moment longer to
the sweet
wailing, and then he left to chec
k off another item on his late-
night agenda. Bart.
What would he do about
him
?
He had a cell free. Maybe a few days in it would teach him a lesson.

Chapter Eleven

A screeching came from the far recesses of Derek’
s mind. A falcon or hawk?

“Get up
,
maggot.”

No bird. A rusty cell door. He opened his eyes and found himself in the same
position he’d been in
before falling asleep. In front of him stood another
one of Victor’s
goon
s
. Not Bart. That was fortunate. He didn’t have the bulk or the mammoth size. Shaking off the cobwebs, a plan immediately took shape.

“I said get up. And put your hands on your head.”
Fortune
flew out the window as the man pulled a gun out and pointed it directly at him. Nothing could be easy.

“Okay,
gimme
a minute.”

As he stood, he adjusted his shorts,
discreet
ly removing a couple of needles and hiding them between his fingers. Then, he put his hands on top of his head.
The man stepped toward him and Derek took his one and only chance to break free. Hands already in a high position, he slammed the needles down and into the eyes of the unsuspecting man. Shrieking madly, the man dropped his weapon
.
Derek took the opportunity to pick it up and run out of the cell, shutting the door
and locking it
behind him.

He didn’t know which way to go. He just knew he had to find the boy and Camille. Sneaking about from one room to another, he peeked inside through their window slits. There wasn’t a soul about anywhere
in any of the rooms
.
They must’ve saved me for last.
But there’s o
ne last room to look in.
Peering in sent his stomach roiling. Blood stained the patient table and floor, and he swore he could see bloody footprints smeared on the floor leading to the door.

Dear God, w
hat have they done to you, Camille?

He had
a sinking feeling
plans had changed
.
Running down the hallway and up the stairs to the main house, he cautiously crept about, trying to locate
anyone that could
be
persuade
d
to give him information
.
It was quiet. Too quiet. Victor had probably left
the house
. But to where? Where were they going to hold the ritual ceremony?

As he snuck into the kitchen area, he found an older, graying woman washing the dishes at the sink. Gun in hand, he stalked over to her and positioned the gun right at the base of her skull.

“If you shout or speak without my permission I will kill you right where you stand. Understand me? Speak only yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Put down the rag and the dish.
Is anyone besides you in the house? Speak.”

“No.”

“W
here did Victor go? Speak.”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You will be dead in
five
seconds if you answer wrong again. Tell me where he took the sacrifices. Speak.”

“To the library. He took them to the library.
Please don’t kill me.
”

“
Open the cabinet under the sink.” She bent down and opened the door.

“Get in. Head first.” She complied, pushing cleaning products out of the way and wedging herself inside. He closed the cabinet door and ripped the sprayer hose out, using it to tie the handles together.

He scrambled to the front door, praying his car hadn’t been destroyed. He’d lost his keys at some point during his capture, but knew how to hotwire a ride. There it stood
in the circular drive
. His savior. His red Chevy SS.
Opening the driver side door, he threw the gun on the passenger seat and ripped wires from under the steering column. In quick fashion, he connected a couple of wires and had his car running.
Tearing
out of the circular drive
,
he
raced to the library, praying he’d be in time.

***

Cars filled the small library parking lot
, and there were plumbing and excavating trucks parked as well
. The kiosk listed a Library Board meeting today at six o’clock this evening. Great cover for cult proceedings. Derek parked his car, wedged the gun in his waistband and cautiously scoped out the lay of the land.
Step by step he walked the perimeter of the building. As he
turned a corner, he nearly slammed right into another man skulking around.

“
Michaels? What are you doing out here?”

“Trying to save my son, Galloway.
Ever since Zach’s disappearance
,
my wife hasn’t been acting the way I
think a mother should
, given her child went missing, so I cornered h
er today about it. She said he’
s marked for greatness and a higher calling, and then she walked out. I followed her here. She’s inside the library right now. I think she’s behind his disappearance. I think she’s
given
him to this satanic cult you were talking about. I’m afraid she belongs to it and
sacrificed my son to them
.”

“I’m so sorry
.
After doing research,
I believe he is, too. A friend of mine
has been taken
, too. We can work together to get them both out alive.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“
Do you know if the front door is unlocked?
”

“
I
t’s locked.”

“All right, we’ll just have to quietly bust our way in
, then
.
Follow me.
”
They
walked
up to the front door
, as though patrons,
and looked through the window. A mat lay on the floor on the other side of the door. “Okay, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna bust the window and unlock the door. If I do it right, the mat should dampen the sound of breaking glass falling to the floor.”

“Here, use my bandana to protect yourself.” Michaels handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He wrapped his elbow and gave the window two good jabs with it. On the second try, the glass broke, but stayed together. He gave it a third tap and
the pieces fell
to the ma
t as anticipated. Fishing his arm through the hole, Derek found the three sets of locks and opened each one. Bringing his arm back out, he then opened the door. “We’re in. Let’s go.”

“Now what do we do?” Zach’s dad whispered.

“We go down to the basement. I’ll cause a diversion while you escape with your son. Then I’ll grab my friend.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it.”

Derek led the way. He stopped at the top and listened.
A
group of people chant
ed
and alternat
ed
with a single female voice. Underscoring the repetitious, monotone
liturgy, came
a
child’s
w
himper
. Michaels would have flown down the stairs had Derek not been in his way. He
grabbed a
stack of
books that lay on the landing
, tiptoed down a couple
of steps
and
hurled
them
one at a time into the crowd, slamming them into people’s heads and bodies
. Giving Michaels the nod, Zach’s father
charged
into the frenzied crowd.

Still in the shadows, he watched as people scurried
about
,
some
cleaning up any evidence of their
thwarted s
acrifice
and escaping out the back door
, while others threw off their robes and headed out to parts unknown
. But one other, the High Priestess, dressed in a black robe and ruby encrusted crown, seemed oblivious to the chaos surrounding her, so intent on sacrificing the boy
.
Arms raised with Satan’s Saber grasped in both hands, she lowered it inch by inch.
Michaels
tackled her from the side
and they tumbled to the floor. A scream reverberated through the room.
When he stood
once again,
he held the bloodied Saber and
used it to free
Zachary
bound
to
the altar
. Throwing the knife aside, he grabbed
him
close
and raced up the stairs
with
the child
cradled in his arms
. He stopped briefly
before Derek.

“Thank you.
You helped save my boy’s life.
” He huffed, out of breath. “I’m headed straight for the police.”

“
You need to take him off the island
to the police there
.
The cult has the police here in their pocket.
Go!”

Derek had been looking about for Camille, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Where the hell is she i
f
they didn’t bring her
down here?
Maybe she’s in that tented area out back.
He blended into the chaos
and
grabbed an abandoned robe
to disguise himself.
Everyone seemed to be leaving in different directions, but a few, who continued to wear their robes hurried
out the emergency exit.
He decided to follow, and o
nce outside, found himself in a
covered walkway
leading
to
the
tent
in the back yard of the library.

When he entered the large tent, a
sickly
sce
nt of incense assaulted his nose
.
Quickly scanning the area, he found the space packed with people, all robed in black, with hands in the air in the shape of devil’s horns.
Two
tall
candelabras, filled with
lit
black and red candles, stood on either side of a stone well. Victor stoo
d
behind the well, bare-chested and
showing a
pentagram
glowing on his chest
.
His lips moved, but the words were masked by
the incessant drone of two large generators.
The need for them became abundantly clear and there was no need to look any further for Camille.

A
Spyder
Crane had been set up
near the well, and Camille, bound and lethargic, dangled from the end of it like a worm on a fish hook right over the opening. If the generators masked Victor’s voice, then they’d mask her screaming as well.

The cult’s leader
seemed to be in his own world, continuing to chant
while he nodded to the man operating the crane, and Camille inched her way closer to the lip of the well.
If he was to save her, h
e had to get these people out of
the tent
fast
.
Reaching underneath the robe, he whipped out the gun and fired a few shots into the ground.
Mass chaos ensued, with people trying to flee. The crane operator hurled himself to the ground and ran, leaving Camille still in her precarious
position, and still headed toward certain death.

Derek headed directly for her and the crane.
“Camille, I’m coming! Stay alive!”

“Stop right there
.
”

Derek found
himself
unable to move his legs
. He
shifted his body to find Victor
stalking his way over
,
looking less like a man and more like Satan himself.

***

Camille faded in and out of consciousness, the pain so severe from the wounds
yet to heal
all over her body and face.
Her arms, stretched to their limits, threatened to dislocate.
Had she heard Derek’s voice?