The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 (26 page)

To Silas on the couch, I said, “And here I thought she and I were finally becoming friends.”

The old man guffawed and said, “I knew it! I just knew it!”

“What?”

“You’ve got a thing for the lady,” he guffawed, slapping a knee.

“Cassandra? Not a chance in hell, Silas.”

He looked at me like I was a school kid, caught in a lie. “I ain’t talking ‘bout her. I was referring to young Miss Thompson.”

Suddenly, I was glad Karla was over at a client’s house feeding some pets and getting the mail while that family was on a vacation to Hawaii.

“Huh?” My command of the English language failed me in times like this.

“You’re protecting her.”

“Well, yeah,” I answered. “She doesn’t need any more ghosts screwing with her life.”

“And here I thought you were carrying a torch for young Miss Goodman, but I don’t think you are now.”

Now he’s bringing Jenny into it?
“I think you’re imagining things, Silas.”

“Oh quit trying to deny it, Mike. We’ve been working together for close to a year now. Most times you’re the one thing I can see and with the Lord as my witness, I ain’t never seen you acting the way you are around Karla.”

“What’s going on?”
Amos asked as he walked through the closed door.

“Silas thinks I’ve got it bad for Karla.”

The Union soldier shrugged before saying, “She’s easy on the eyes, takes good care of herself, seems to have gotten over her problems with ghosts, and, most importantly, every time I’ve come in here and the two of you are together, you’re smiling Mike. So, you’ll forgive me if I agree with the deacon on this one. Shucks, if you weren’t sweet on her, I’d be more surprised.”

This was one battle I couldn’t win. Throwing my hands up in mock surrender, I countered with, “Okay, I like her. I’d be stupid not to. But both of you know what we’re up against and I don’t want her involved in this … not one bit!”

Knocking on Karla’s bedroom door at three in the morning wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do.

It opened and she was silhouetted in the darkness. I did my level best to not gawk. Even with shoes on and her in bare feet, she was still taller than me. “What is it Mike?”

“Sorry, I need to borrow your car,” I mumbled. “Cassandra just called. He wants to meet her in thirty minutes.”

“I guess the dead really don’t rest. Do you know where you’re headed?”

“She gave me an address. I should be able to plug it into the gps on the cell phone.”

“I can drive,” she said. “You need to finish waking up and get your ‘A’ game together.”

“You’ve done more than I could have wished for, but I need someone to stay and look after Silas.”

Karla opened her mouth, ready to argue, and I knew I was not going to win this unless I got out in front of it. Holding up a hand, I said, “You don’t have to face one of them to prove you can. Even if you feel like you do, this isn’t the one to confront. If you come along, that’s one more thing I have to worry about.

She placed her hand on my right shoulder and said, “Okay. The keys are in my purse on the counter. Be careful.”

We’d come a long way in such a short time and at least half the butterflies in my stomach at that moment had nothing to do with the ghost of a conquistador. I covered that hand with my own and we stood there for a few seconds as the barriers between us shuddered on their foundations. She could have moved first or it might have been me … I can’t really say, but we embraced in the dim lighting of her hallway. Karla’s hair was down and it brushed the side of my face. I took in her smell, the sensation of my arms encircling her waist, and the way the hot air from her breath felt on my neck.

If we kissed, I doubted I’d leave. There was an old saying that goes around the various branches of the armed forces. It’s called the “fifty-fifty-ninety rule” and it basically went like this. If you have a fifty-fifty choice, ninety percent of the time you’ll make the wrong one. My two choices were kiss her and stay or leave and go risk my life. Yeah, I was a dumbass.

Letting go, I stepped back and broke the embrace, ruining that moment. She followed briefly, but I grabbed her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze before saying, “Just to make sure, your car insurance is paid up, right?”

The expression on her face changed. The softness and uncertainty replaced by her normal half-smile. “Not a scratch, Mike Ross. Otherwise, your next workout … I’ll stop going easy on you.”

“Are you talking about scratches on the car or me?” She was brutal as a trainer, but despite the soreness, there were some distinct advantages to working with her.

She chuckled and answered, “Both.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best,” I said and hoped that would be good enough.

Three minutes later, I parked in the driveway of that vacant house down the road and flashing the headlights into the front window. Amos Sweet and Lee Harvey Oswald exited the building and made a beeline for Karla’s pilot. The engine sputtered as Oswald’s spirit passed, but I tapped the accelerator and compensated.

They climbed into the back and Amos began fumbling through the phantom weapons in the seat behind him. He came up with two knives and the crossbow. Oswald glanced sideways with a look of contempt on his face and he voiced the words I was thinking.

“The odds of those toys hurting someone as ancient as Hernando De Soto are laughable.”

Of course, I would’ve been nicer about it. I had my filing coated gloves on, plastic bottles filled with more iron dust in my pockets, and that foot long plumber’s wrench I’d picked up so long ago resting in the passenger’s seat. Cold iron, charged with my energy was still the best weapon in my arsenal that wouldn’t cause a heart attack. Thinking about that, I patted my chest and felt the cross and the pill container resting beneath my shirt silently hoping for help from one and not to need the other.

Amos wasn’t bothered by Oswald’s contempt.
“It might be only a speck of dust to him or like spitting in his eye, but tell me something, ever had dust get in your eye or been spit on? Irritating, ain’t it? Maybe I’ll get one shot in that distracts him that lets you or Mike finish him for good.”

I pulled out of the driveway and accelerated out of the development. Passing Karla’s townhouse, I looked, wanting to catch one more glance of her form. I was out of luck or maybe my luck was saving itself for what was ahead.

“Let’s do this.”

Twenty minutes and a brief phone conversation with Cassandra later, we slipped in behind Isabella’s parked jeep and I tried to cut the lights. Of course this failed because most new cars have that feature that automatically turns on the lights when the motor was running. I was smooth like that.

Turning off the engine, I answered Silas Parker’s cellular phone.

The Skinwalker fifteen feet in front of me said, “Ross, I want you in the jeep with me. We go up two blocks, turn right and it’s the third building on the left. Send the ghosts underground and have them ready to enter the building through the sides. They need to stay out of sight until we’re in. You’ll go in through the door first, blocking the view of the dart pistols I’ll have. I’ll hand you one and we take out the bodyguard and David Michaels. Without a body, Hernando must come out and fight. When that happens, I’ve done all I can and the rest is up to you and your allies.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be there in a second.” I hung up. “Guys, stay under the road to prevent being seen if De Soto has any animals watching the area. Oswald, pick whatever side you want to go through and be ready to go as soon as we enter the building. Amos, stay right under the jeep and follow us when we go in. You should be able to get some shots in and he’ll have to go through me to get to you. Any questions? Okay, then I guess it’s go time.”

Walking briskly through the dimly lit street, I climbed into Isabella’s jeep. The mound of garbage that had been there was gone and the inside of the car had been detailed. Apparently, Cassandra couldn’t take Isabella’s habits anymore.

“Are you ready for this, Ross?” If anything, the seriousness of the situation made Isabella’s accent even thicker and more difficult to understand. Cassandra was clearly as concerned as I was.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Cassandra.”

“You realize that your father won’t appreciate you ruining his perfect life,” she mentioned, starting the engine.

I’d given that considerable thought since I realized the former David Michael Ross, Senior was probably going along with letting his body being used in exchange for the women, the money, and the fame. Was I bitter? Yeah.

“Well, my life has been anything but perfect for the last fifteen years, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t really care. After De Soto is destroyed, maybe he’ll have to stop coasting through life and actually make a few decisions on his own.”

Isabella’s body made a curt, chuckling laugh. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Less than a minute later, we parked in the mostly empty lot in front of a trio of those prefabricated steel buildings people on late night television were always trying to sell. There weren’t many windows and it appeared that the nearby warehouses were vacant.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t like nosy neighbors.”

“Yes,” she answered, staring forward lost in her own thoughts. “Dog fights are held here … sometimes cockfights as well. Hernando enjoys violence.”

My opinion of the ghost had already hit rock bottom. I didn’t think it could go any lower, but it did. He’d probably do gladiator matches if he could get away with it. Was I nervous about walking through that door while knowing my father and a really dangerous ghost were on the other side? Yeah. Off the top of my head, there were at least a dozen things that could go wrong and I was trying not to think about it.

Grabbing the handle, I opened the door slowly. An unlit waiting area greeted me. To the right was the manager’s office which was also dark and empty. Cassandra motioned to the metal door with the small window that led down a lighted hallway.

Internally, I laughed at all the posters adorning the walls, especially the sad eyed cocker spaniel on the “help prevent animal cruelty” poster. Growing up, I never really had a cat or a dog for very long. We couldn’t afford to keep one. Lately, the closest I’d come was the ghost of a dog that now keeps Elsbeth Snowden company when she’s not out with her deceased dentist. I might never understand the mechanics of who or what becomes a ghost. With all the livestock and domestic pets that die every single day, it made me wonder why there weren’t animal ghosts everywhere. The best theory Silas and I could come up with revolved around the owner of the pets and whether they “dragged” the poor animals along with them.

“Are we just going to stand here?” Cassandra whispered, interrupting my mental wanderings.

“Let me have one of the tranq guns,” I said and thrust out a hand.

She handed it to me and said, “Are you happy now?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Oswald will be coming any second.”

The metal door wasn’t locked and I yanked it open and charged down the hallway while having flashbacks to my time in the Army doing house to house searches in Iraq. The object was to move quickly and prevent them from reacting. Cassandra, in Isabella’s body, followed right behind me. As the first door closed, we were already through the next door and into the main area.

Cages lined the walls and in the center area, most of the dogs were asleep or making only a little noise. Two men sat at a table in the center area playing cards. The first was a thick hulk of a man in his thirties. He had bodyguard written all over him.

The second? Dear old Dad. Face to face with him after all this time! It wasn’t like I’d imagined. To be honest, it was kind of pedestrian. Alarm bells rang in my head. The fact they just looked up without much in the way of surprise screamed “trap.” Then there was the matter of the stabbing pain in my left butt cheek, as a dart hit me right in the fleshy part.