The Paladin (10 page)

"Where did I put that silly thing?" Sara asked going through the chest of her memories and pointedly ignoring Zack’s snide comments.

"As I remember it, seems that the jar was made of some kind of white stone. Silas used to call it his alabaster box."

"From the bible story?" asked Brenda.

"Yes, from the alabaster box of perfume that the woman used to anoint Jesus."

"It wasn't, was it?" asked Zack. "A thing like that would be worth a fortune."

"Hardly. Silas used to keep his pipe tobacco in it."

"Were did he get it?" Zack asked.

"Macau, I think."

"Too bad he didn't stay there."

Brenda landed another blow to Zack’s head.

"Ow!" he said. "I can't help you, woman, if you beat me to death!"

"Thank you, Brenda. Silas told me that it was magic. Said that a terrible Chinese magician had given it to him and told him not to lose it. My daddy said Silas was full of sheep dip, that he was just pulling my leg. But after hearing about the magic jar, I just had to touch it."

Sara laughed.

"When nobody was looking, I climbed up on a kitchen chair, and just as I was about to touch it, my mom caught me. She was about to switch me good, but Silas stopped her. He took down the jar and sat in his favorite chair. I climbed up on his lap and he let me hold it. I was surprised by the feel: it was cold, like it was full of ice. Aunt Mary, Silas's wife, got her camera and we hammed it up. I miss them both."

"That's all well and good," said Zack, "but where can I find the jar?"

"Silas took it the night he disappeared."

"How do you know?" he asked. "The last anyone saw of Silas was when he shot up the church."

"Not exactly," Sara said as she produced a silver chain from which hung an odd-looking pendant.

"What do you mean?" Zack asked.

"When Silas went to church that night, Aunt Mary was called away to visit a sick neighbor. She asked me to babysit my cousins, Howard, and your grandfather, Zackary. I had no idea what had happened at the church, but the kids were asleep and I was listening to Lux Theater when Silas burst through the door. Silas was breathing hard like he had been running and he had a wild look in his eye. I had never seen him like this and I'll tell you, it scared the living daylights out of me. Uncle Silas was always real careful about his appearance—I guess you might say he was a sharp dresser—but that night, his hat was gone and his boots were thick with mud. He had this carpetbag with him that he tossed on the floor in front of his old roll top. Without a word, he pulled out a desk drawer, the bottom I think, and dumped the entire contents into the bag. Silas knelt down and looked me in the eye, 'Sara, honey,’ he said, ‘I need you to help me.' I will never forget his look of utter desperation. Anyway, he asked me to hide the carpetbag where no one would find it, and when everything blew over, to take it out and destroy it. I was to never tell anyone that he was here or that I saw him. It was then that we heard the sound of someone on the porch."

"Who was it, the sheriff?" asked Brenda.

"No, I remember Silas peeked out a side window, and then he turned white as a sheet. He came to me and told me to listen carefully and do exactly as he said. Silas took a silver medallion, this very one, from his neck and slipped it over my head.

'That old Chinese devil gave me this for protection,' he said. 'I don't need it anymore, Turtle. Answer the door, but stand your ground and don't let her in. She will ask if I am here. Tell her I was, but that I said I was going to the cave down behind the Jesus rock.'"

"Who was she?" Zack asked. "What's a Jesus rock?"

Brenda elbowed him, "Let her tell the story."

"That was the first and last time I heard the term," said Sara. "Silas slipped into another room, and swallowing hard, I opened the front door. Let me tell you, it was a spooky night! The fog was so thick I couldn't see to the edge of the porch. There, in front of me, dressed in white like a ghost stood Mrs. Beck."

"John Beck's wife?" Brenda asked. "The one Silas was supposed to have killed? You saw her, too?"

"The very one," Sara said. "She asked if Silas was here and I told her what Silas said. She gave me a smile that for some reason terrified me. Let me tell you: I was scared to death! She asked me if I was alone and I told her no, that I was babysitting Uncle Silas's kids. She said something weird, as I remember it. She said, 'Silas Cole's
unprotected
children?' Mrs. Beck stretched out a hand toward me like she was going to grab me, but snatched it back like she had burned it. It has been a long time, but I swear, the necklace…well, it
flashed blue
!"

"Yeah, right," Zack said with a chuckle. "Ooooh, a magic necklace! Do you have a flying carpet in there, too?"

"Don't make me hurt you," spat Brenda. "Go ahead, Sara."

"As I was saying, Mrs. Beck had an almost animal look in her eye as she stared at the medallion uncle gave me. Then she said, 'After I deal with your Uncle Silas, I'll be back to finish our little chat. You can count on it.' Then she was gone, vanished into the fog. I never saw her again. Silas came back in the room, bent down, and told me that I did a good job. Tears were streaming down his face, and trust me, I never saw uncle cry before. He gave me a hug and kissed me on the forehead. 'Turtle,' he said, ‘they are going to say some pretty bad things about me, but don't you believe them. The Becks are the ones who are bad, very bad, and if I fail, don't go near them.' I asked what he meant by failing, but he only smiled. 'Remember your old Uncle Silas, Turtle,' he said. 'I love you like you were my own daughter.' He pulled a big funny-looking gun out of the carpetbag and stuck it in his belt. Silas then snatched the magic jar off the mantle and dumped his all his tobacco into the fire. I'll never forget the smell. He then took his lighter and shoved it into my pocket. Silas made me promise never to tell what I saw and to get rid of his bag. That was it. I never saw him or that jar again."

"Damn, I'll bet your dad had a cow when you told him," said Zack.

"You are the first I ever told this to."

"You don't have a clue where the jar is, do you?" asked Zack.

"No," she said. "But here is the necklace he gave me."

Brenda and Zack looked at the gleaming silver-like metal.

"Nice story, Sara," said Zack."But we are back to square one, right where we started."

"What about the bag?" asked Brenda. "Maybe it contains a clue? I mean, Silas was obviously trying to hide something or he would not have had Sara do away with the bag."

"Weren't you listening?" Zack said with disgust. "Silas told her to get rid of the evidence. Whatever clues that were in the bag, Sara destroyed them."

"Not necessarily," said Sara as she lovingly replaced the necklace.

11

Maggie sat on the edge of her cot, eating a large salad. It was late, and although the abandoned house was without electricity, the room was bathed in the bright glow of battery-powered lanterns.

While she ate, Maggie mulled over the problem of how to deal with Zack Cole. In her mind, she had constructed several clever scenarios to do Zack in, however, factor in Beck's gunmen, and it was her and not Zack who would wind up dead. Beck had too many men with too many guns.

Maggie looked over at the BBSP and smiled. "Well, I guess there is always the
nuclear
option."

Maggie froze in mid-bite as the sharp sound of clinking glass reached her ears.

"Hey, you in the cabin! Come out and party!"

Quickly, Maggie snatched up her H&K .45 and doused the lights.

"I know you are in there! Now quit being chicken shit and come out. If I have to come in after you, believe me, you won't like it."

Maggie carefully looked out the window and saw a bonfire blaze to life several yards away. Sitting beside the fire sat a small harmless-looking man.

"Don't be afraid, you whore, I came alone," he said. "Now come out and talk."

"Whore?" she said as her blood quickly came to a rolling boil. "I don't have time to mess around with a shit-faced good ol' boy looking to party."

Gun in hand, Maggie stalked out the door and strode boldly up to the man. Maggie wanted to make it clear that he was messing with the wrong girl. To her surprise, this only made the little man laugh.

"That gun make you feel all bad-ass, woman?" he asked happily.

Bill Long sat by the fire dressed in a button up shirt and jeans. He was a small man, barely five-foot tall with delicate features and thinning blond hair.

Bill was a little guy that men loved to disrespect and women scorned. However, all that was history. After tonight, Bill Long would no longer be a cowering victim; no, he would show the world what it is like to live in terror.

"You came to the wrong place, mister, to tie one on," she said. "Besides, I don't know anybody named, ‘Whore.’ Now why don't you go home and sleep it off before I call the cops."

"One, I ain't drunk," he said. "Two, you won't call the cops. I know who you are,
Paladin
."

Maggie froze. In her bravado, she had made a rookie mistake of leaping before she looked. She now stood exposed in the open, the fire making her an easy target for a sniper's rife. In her mind, she could feel the crosshairs settle on the back of her head. Bringing the gun up she prepared to roll left and try to make the cover of a stand of locus trees fifty yards away.

"I know what you are thinking, but don't worry," Bill said. "Beck's men are still babysitting that Cole boy. It is just you and me."

Figuring that if Beck's men were hiding in the darkness she would already be dead, she decided he was telling the truth.

"OK, so what do you want?" asked Maggie.

"Here is the deal. The Cole boy is off-limits. Tell me who sent you and you can go your way."

"Kiss my ass."

"OK, alternate deal. Tell me who sent you, and then after we have some fun, I will make you wish you were never born."

"Excuse me? Not much of a negotiator if you ask me. How about this, short stack, you go away and I won't shoot your ass."

"Whores like you think they own this world," he said. "Flash your tits and men bow down at your feet. I got news for you: women were put on this earth to serve men, not the other way around. All your kind is good for is to warm our beds and bring us beer during a ball game."

Maggie drew down on the smiling man.

"I am sensing you have a problem with women," she said. "What's the matter, get stood up for the prom?"

"Bitches like you will never ignore me again, not after tonight," he said. "I made the deal of a lifetime. All I have to do is kill you and a new, wonderful life will be mine."

"That's not how to get a girlfriend. Try chocolates and flowers. Now turn around and go home before I get mad."

Maggie got a bad feeling.
Something isn't right,
she thought,
why would Beck send this runt, alone? Could have sent all his goons down on me. Doesn't make any sense.

"Paladin, you will be the first of a long line of bitches that I will make regret they were ever born."

"Sorry to disappoint you…I didn't catch the name."

"My name is William, my friends call me Bill."

"OK, Bill," Maggie said. "My name is Maggie, not whore, bitch, or slut. You made your play, now go away. Tell Beck that next time he needs to send a bigger asshole."

Bill Long's smile disappeared and his face contorted with rage. Slowly, reaching up to his collar, Bill grasped the dull black image of a wolf dangling from a leather thong. In an instant—much to Maggie's horror—the tiny man transformed into a seven-foot terror of thick black fur and razor sharp fangs.

"Oh…
shit
!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Am I big enough
now
?" Bill said in a deep booming voice.

The quiet Tennessee night was shattered by the roar of her pistol as Maggie emptied her magazine into the impossible horror. Despite the nice grouping, he did not go down or even blink.

"That all you got, whore?" he asked, with a chuckle. "Now would be a good time to run."

Maggie
dashed toward the house to retrieve Kali before it was too late.

The creature, unfortunately, proved to be faster and more nimble than she imagined. Maggie gained only a few yards before a flailing claw and sent sliding through the tall grass. Before she could rise, the laughing beast picked her up and slammed her into the side of the house, cracking several of her ribs. Grunting with pain, she rolled onto her back. Maggie could feel the ribs moving on their own, but she ignored the blinding pain.

"Stupid bitch," he growled. "Now that you have been taught proper respect, we are going to have some fun. Now, strip like the slut you are. Show me a good time, and I will be merciful. Who knows, maybe you will like it."

"OK, OKOK, please don't hurt me anymore!" she cried. "I'll do anything you want!" Maggie fumbled to raise her shirt as Bill flashed a smile of razor sharp teeth. The creature stood over the fallen woman, triumphant, ready to take his prize.

Maggie grunted as she thrust her right foot up with all her might. Bill squealed with pain as her foot disappeared into his crotch.

"Screw you, Lon Chaney!" she yelled.

Staggering back, Maggie saw her chance and leapt to her feet. Praying that she would not puncture a lung, she launched a flurry of kicks that would have killed a normal man; but Bill Long merely shrugged it off.

With an angry roar, Bill backhanded Maggie and she stumbled and fell down hard. Before she could recover, he was on her. With a huge hand at her throat, he pinned her to the dew-soaked ground.

Kicking and punching, Maggie knew it was over, but she was determined to go down swinging; an odd thought came to her mind.

Call your weapon before it is too late.

"Kali," Maggie gurgled.

The cracked picture window shattered as Kali flew though. The big knife sailed unerringly into Maggie's right hand and her fingers closed around it.

"Hungry,"
it said.