The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) (22 page)

Nithya paused for a heavy moment, perhaps realizing the irony of her words. "When Lola got sick, we did our best for her. We kept her at Deborah's cabin and treated her, but she was overtaken. Lola had met her desired fate after all.

"We had a quiet burial for her. Deborah was devastated, as was I, but I thought I was on to something. I asked about other volunteers. Deborah latched onto the process, no more as a helpful hand to a friend but instead as a business decision. We started by using the basement of Sycamore Lodge. Deborah had just purchased the property, and it served its purpose until I found better, more neutral ground. Deborah negotiated special consideration from the CDC for the Seventh Sons and was well paid. She continued to push for more. More trials. More people."

At this point, Maxim was numb to the news. "And what of your reasons?"

Nithya sighed and clasped her elbows for warmth. "I have a brain tumor, Detective. I have been healthy all of my life, yet here I am, not even forty, and I do not know how many years I have left. The mass pushes against my skull, causes incessant headaches, and will one day rob me of my reason. Then I will die, alone, probably in a mental ward, without dignity."

Maxim looked to the woman softly. It seemed she was still able to stir sympathy in him, whatever her transgressions. It was no matter. She would answer for her part, one way or another.

"Lycanthropy," he said, working out the same premise she had staked her livelihood on. "You wanted to be able to heal like them."

She gave a weak nod. "Werewolf physiology stands up surprisingly well to degenerative diseases. Late onset deterioration tied to aging is nearly nonexistent. Imagine not needing to watch your cholesterol in your later years. Imagine not having the crippling burden of caring for a parent. The old get to keep their graces."

Maxim thought over her words with a furrowed brow. "So you never desired to become a wolf?"

Nithya laughed as her face was wrought with irony. "It's tragic," she said, looking up to the stars as if their worlds held answers other than this one. "I've been sick, in pain, dying, and all I've wanted was to live. Not an abnormal life, not selfishly long, just long enough to be able to look back on my time and be proud of the differences I've made. Yet the bulk of my test subjects had purely temporary problems and wished to snuff themselves out with little thought. I've failed them. And I've failed myself."

"What about Angelica?" Maxim asked.

She smiled weakly. "Perhaps my lone accomplishment. Or perhaps she was predisposed to lycanthropy without my help. But I am happy that she can move on. I am sorry that was not the fortune of your wife."

The detective listened in silence. Imagining what could have been was as fruitless as lying to oneself about the past. There had been no mystery cure for his relationship with Lola, no more than Nithya could control the tumor in her brain.

"Hey!" called out Deborah impatiently. Maxim had almost forgotten the hostile terms that encompassed this dialog and looked to Deborah, who was still standing outside on the stoop. "Get on with it."

Maxim nodded and returned his attention to Nithya. "You haven't saved Angelica yet until she is free from that woman. Where is she?"

"Holton has her locked in the basement." The woman held out her hands to receive the briefcase.

Maxim studied the backside of Sycamore Lodge. He hadn't realized the old building had a basement before Nithya's story. There was no entrance against the outside wall, so it was likely that the lone access point was within. His eyes moved to the wolf standing by the back door. Deborah was getting increasingly agitated by their delay. Maxim would need to create some space between her and her captives.

"Last chance, Deborah," he yelled, holding the reinforced briefcase high above his head. "Send the girl out and I'll give you your money. I promise."

The breeze grew more intense, and it whipped Deborah's hair wildly about her head. She stared mercilessly at Maxim as he made his demands, then smiled a cruel smile and simply said, "You can't take charge of this one, Maxim."

The two stood defiantly opposed to each other, neither giving an inch. The detective waved the case in the air as a taunt.

"It seems that you want more blood on your hands," said the woman. "I think I'll start by cutting Helen's throat." Deborah stepped into the door to retreat inside.

"No!" screamed Maxim, advancing forward. He couldn't let that happen. He unlatched the briefcase and upended it with both hands. The contents spilled into the dirt. Stacks of bound bills and passports fell to his feet as he shook the case empty. Deborah paused in the threshold of the bar and shot him a look of despair. The detective threw the case to the ground and picked up a wad of cash.

"What is it that you want more?" he asked, insistent. As a hard wind blew, the detective ripped the tie that held the cash in a bundle. "Misery—or riches?" He ruffled the bills loose from his hands and they were picked up by the angry air, exploding into a mass of individual actors haphazardly fluttering to freedom.

Deborah could stand it no longer. She sprung from her perch as if propelled by a rifle.

She closed the distance between them more quickly than Maxim had anticipated, charging straight for the source of her ire. He'd barely drawn the Glock and she was upon him. He fired some reflexive shots. The wolf sidestepped and ducked under the near misses.

By the time the detective was pulling the trigger a third time, he was tackled by the savage woman. She dragged him to the ground next to the grain bin.

On his back, Maxim brought the butt of his pistol down on Deborah's head. It was a solid blow but it barely phased her. She overpowered his hand and banged it into the ground until he dropped the weapon.

Deborah rained down vicious punches to his chest and face. Maxim instinctively drew his arms up to protect himself before he felt the pain that would have buckled his body had he been standing. He tried to kick her off, but she was too strong; in a moment he was helplessly pinned.

From behind her, a metal briefcase swung around and knocked Deborah in the head. The unexpected strike swept her to the floor, but the agile woman rolled to her feet and faced her attacker. Nithya Rao stood above the woman, wildly swinging her awkward weapon.

Deborah easily lunged between the blows and swatted the case to the ground. Then she did the same to Nithya, putting her fists together and slamming them into the woman's chest. Nithya sailed backwards ten feet and collapsed in the dirt.

Maxim struggled to get up as Deborah turned her attention back to him. To complicate matters further, they heard an engine revving loudly. The detective, still on the floor, bent around and saw a metallic gray late-model pickup truck skidding past the lodge and bearing down on them both.

Gaston, thought Maxim as he saw the big man at the wheel. That meant that Diego couldn't be far behind.

The next events happened in a heartbeat, but some combination of heightened awareness and adrenalin allowed Maxim to take in every detail.

The detective saw Deborah reach into the small of her back.

He frantically rolled toward his weapon and scooped it out of the dirt.

Maxim heard shots ring out and kept his head down, but as he turned to his opponent, he saw that she was firing on Gaston's truck.

The windshield shattered into a spider web of fragments, somehow held together except for the distinct holes that the bullets had traveled through in front of the driver's seat. Some of the rounds must have hit their mark because Maxim swore that he saw a streak of crimson paint the broken glass.

Deborah, meanwhile, was attempting to flee from the path of the impending vehicle. She ran toward it at an angle as she fired, trying to sidestep it. Maxim raised his weapon and shot at her as he pressed his back into the abandoned farm structure. He couldn't tell if his aim was true.

Suddenly, Gaston turned the truck sharply to the left. Deborah was almost nimble enough to avoid the maneuver, but the broad steel bumper of the pickup caught her hip and slammed her to the ground. Her weapon flew from her hand and she was pulled under the careening vehicle. Deborah was dragged through the dirt until the tire bounced over her body.

In that moment, Maxim realized the truck was about to barrel into him.

The detective leaped from the ground to his left. The pickup, massive at this immediate proximity, smashed into the large grain bin just a foot from his right arm. The impact was catastrophic, pushing shards of glass and slivers of metal forward. Gaston's truck, which had seemed to have been moving impossibly fast to stop, was instantly motionless and half-embedded in a corrugated metal wall.

Maxim had only half a moment to breathe as he steadied his feet and gripped his pistol tightly, eyes searching the ground where Deborah should have been. The reprieve was not long enough to get to safety.

A colossal sound, like that of a stampede of buffalo charging his direction, assaulted his ears. Maxim's feet were swept forward suddenly by an unyielding wave of rotten grain spilling out from the fractured bin behind him. The detective fell on his backside and fought to get up out of the sliding wheat, but it was acting as if it were quicksand. As he struggled, the deluge continued to pour over his body and head, burying him under its increasing weight.

The detective tried to take a panicked breath and sucked in the harsh grain. He coughed it up and the rancid stench almost caused him to pass out. Maxim moved to cover his mouth so he had space to breathe as the load over him got heavier, and he was afraid he would be crushed.

Hold on to the gun, he thought. Hold on to the gun.

 

Diego ducked underneath the half-open door to the Sycamore Lodge storeroom. He had seen Maxim slide it open moments before. The detective was now drawing attention to the back of the lot. This was the biker's best chance to sneak in and find Angelica.

The room was full of garbage and kegs. Up a couple of stone steps, double doors provided side access to the bar. Diego peeked through the small panes of glass in the metal doors and saw a hallway. A small closet was open on his right and the entire length of the left wall was shared with the kitchen, which had two entrances. At the end, the passage intersected with another hallway that eased travel between the main lodge area and the back of the building.

The biker jumped as he saw Nithya taking this same path, crossing past him in the other hall, followed closely behind by her captor. Deborah was pushing her toward the back. Perhaps this sideshow would allow the biker to move unnoticed within.

After waiting a short time to make sure Deborah wasn't coming back, Diego slipped the door open and quietly entered through the threshold. One by one, Diego took each agonizing step with supreme caution. The doorways to the kitchen had swinging doors with windows. Looking inside revealed nothing but ovens, flattops, and other appliances stained with grease. As he reached the end of the passage, the biker took a breath and peeked around to the back.

The rear door was closed. Diego could see Deborah through its large window, standing with her arms crossed looking on at some development outside. The hall down in the opposite direction looked clear. With silent haste, the biker walked backwards, watching the dangerous woman the whole way until he found himself in the familiar confines of Sycamore Lodge.

The bar looked empty but the biker heard startled gasps. A clump of people were tied up in the corner that he had just walked away from. He didn't know any of them. More importantly, Angelica was nowhere to be seen. Was she not here at all? Is that why Maxim didn't make the trade and left Gutierrez stranded outside?

"Where are the others?" he asked impatiently.

One of the truckers said, "She took the woman out back."

Diego wasn't here for Nithya. "Anyone else?"

The group just shrugged. An older woman gave the only other information. "We haven't seen anyone else besides Detective Dwyer."

Diego's heart sunk. According to Melody, Mom would have been the last one to see Angelica. If she wasn't here...

He shook the thought from his mind and stomped to the front door, peeked past the shade, and swung it open. The biker waved in the rookie sitting on his Scrambler.

Diego rushed to the bar and looked for something sharp. He snatched up a pair of scissors and joined Gutierrez as he came inside. As they walked to the hostages, Diego put his arm across the officer's chest to stop him. They needed to cross the view of the hallway to get to the corner. Diego poked his head over and still saw Deborah outside, looking away. The biker nodded and they quickly moved past.

"We're gonna get you out of here," said Gutierrez to the others as he saw Diego cutting through the plastic ties around their legs. The rookie looked down at his black leather clothes. "I'm a police officer." The man pulled a utility knife from his pocket and followed Diego's lead.

"Where else could Deborah be hiding somebody?" asked Diego in a rushed voice.

The older woman answered again. "Uh, kitchen, storeroom, basement, bathrooms—"

Diego cut the woman's hands free. "Where's the basement?"

She pointed around the corner to the area where the stage was—where Diego had stabbed Steve. The red sconces that lit the bar and hallway were absent in the dance area, and although the eerie light carried well where it was not obstructed, much of the side room was left bathed in shadow.

The group froze as they all heard the creak of the back door. Diego put his finger to his lips to tell the others to be silent. They could hear Maxim yelling in the distance and the biker gripped the scissors tightly. Then the door slammed shut and they heard gunshots. That was Gaston's cue.

Diego jumped into the hallway and saw no one there. He helped up the older woman and looked to Gutierrez. "Get them all out of here." Then the biker jumped to the stone floor and headed to the darkness in the back. He pressed himself past a heavy door and then found another. After undoing the deadbolt, it revealed a stone staircase down.